Finding Peace: DD2
by Foreverwolf
Summary: Sequel to Deaths Door. Alex isn't sure what he's looking for, but with a little help, and a few hard learned lessons, maybe he'll figure out it's been there all along. WARNING: Torture in it's truest form.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** Well, here it is, for what it's worth. The sequel to Deaths Door. Not so much angst this time, it's more mission focused. At least, I tried, anyway. Nature of the beast, right? *shrugs sheepishly*

I very much believe that characters should be able to evolve with the story. Characters who stay constantly the same, get dull, boring and cease to be seen as potentially real people. As such, my characters evolve more here. There is no such thing as Out Of Character, in my writing, because by nature people mature by their experiences.

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Finding Peace: DD2

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Wolf sighed as he heard the front door close. He waited a second, and heard the unmistakable sounds of Alex on the stairs, once again, heading directly to his room after school.

Cub had been out of the hospital for a month since his bullet wound to the shoulder. He had, in the last week, at least gotten his voice back. It was still sometimes harsh and raspy, but he could talk.

Unfortunately for Wolf, he hadn't been doing much of that. Alex seemed to be content to keep to himself, and bury himself in missed coursework. They hadn't really spoken about anything else, and Wolf was getting a little tired of it.

MI6 had thus far kept their end of the bargain. Cub had been assigned a councilor, already armed with K Unit's suspicions of PTSD. Unfortunately, the reports coming back weren't good. Alex refused to talk, and instead had managed to draw the councilor into a shouting match on three separate occasions.

The housekeep dropped by, twice a week, as promised. She was an attractive woman, in her thirties, fit, and a perfectionist. Nor did she tolerate jam stains on the carpet two days after she came last. Sonya was very good at being forgotten while she was there.

The rest of K Unit were back on light duty, and weren't around as much. Surprisingly, Wolf had been granted Paternal Leave. An adjustment period, they had called it. If any were surprised that he had adopted a child more than half his age, they didn't mention it.

They had settled into a routine, but it wasn't one Wolf was comfortable with. He didn't want to smother the boy, but he also knew that what was happening wasn't healthy. Alex was clearly still suspicious of K Unit's intentions, and didn't trust them.

Snake had come closest one night when he had spoken to Alex about when he himself had made his first kill, and about how he had felt afterwards. It had happened after another flashback that Alex hadn't been able to control. Only the second that any from K Unit had witnessed, but they all knew there had been more. Alex had listened obediently, and hadn't spoken at all. When Snake had finished, he'd simply returned to his room.

The nightmares were the worst. Too many times they had caught the boy retching after one of them, and tried to express concern, only to be rebuffed by a clipped, 'I'm fine'. Wolf had to admit, he was very much starting to hate those two little words.

Snake came into the kitchen and saw Wolf frowning over his coffee. It didn't take much to know what was on his mind.

"Again today?" he asked.

Wolf nodded. "He can't keep this up, Quinn. Sooner or later he has to face what's happened to him, and what he did, or he's going to explode. And with his luck, it'll happen on a mission."

Snake shrugged. "I get the feeling that Alex is pretty used to having to deal with things in his own time, in his own way. We can't rush this. We knew what we were taking on." There was a hint of a question in his voice, and Wolf shook his head immediately.

"No regrets, Quinn. He's a member of our team going through some hard times. We'll see it through, like we always do."

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Alex backed away from the top of the stairwell to his room, having overheard the conversation. He knew he wasn't being fair to K Unit. They had saved him from a far greater danger, and he owed them for it. He just wasn't sure how to handle being forced to accept one evil to avoid another.

And despite what Wolf and Snake thought, he _had_ been doing some soul searching over the last month. Finally having his voice back had been a relief. If he had to be honest with himself, he had begun to fear that he never would.

His shoulder was healing nicely, and no longer pained him. His chest was still tender whenever he exerted himself, but he had come to accept that it would always be so. It was the scars he couldn't stand to look at. His back was riddled with thin white lines from the whipping he had received, and the two burns had left gruesome marks on his waist. His wrists held their own numerous tiny whites lines from the manacles.

Together, he often caught sight of a body that no longer seemed his. It was as if it belonged to someone else, and he had merely borrowed it for a time. The scars from his previous missions had never escaped his notice, but they had never been on this scale, and could have been easily explained away by a fall or his quickly rising ranks in Karate.

That was no longer the case and now he had to spend as much time hiding his body as he did his double life. It was exhausting keeping all these secrets and still trying to fit in. So he had given up the latter. It was easier to close off from his mates and allow the rampant rumors than it was to think of a lie to get rid of them.

Even his once best mate, Tom Harris, the only one who knew what he really did, had distanced himself from Alex. Not being able to get what had happened to Jack out of his mind, Alex had himself encouraged the idea that he didn't want Tom around.

The flashbacks were near constant now, though he had learned to recognize the signs and he had learned to control them. Unfortunately, his higher control of his waking flashbacks seemed to have triggered far more vicious nightmares. He wasn't eating as much because he knew whatever he ate, he would see again later that night. The knowledge had turned him off food of any kind. His already lean frame was easily showing the consequences of that.

And Jack. He had forgiven her, had understood why she had done what she had. But it hadn't lessened the hurt of it any. She hadn't even stopped to say good bye, and he hadn't heard from her since, despite her promise to write.

Alex viciously wiped tears from his eyes. It wasn't his fault all of this had happened, but it had, and now he had to accept that this was his life. Mourning what he had lost wasn't going to help him do that.

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Wolf and Snake were sitting on the couch, viciously crushing each other on Tekken 5, shouting at each other and gloating at the win. Alex watched for a moment, a little taken aback by the normalcy of the picture in front of him.

It was like living with two older brothers. Thinking back, while both had expressed considerable concern, neither had tried to be overly parental. He had been given his freedom to deal with things as he could, had been asked how his day had gone, but never given the third degree. K Unit hadn't forbidden him from taking on the last mission, despite their obvious dislike of the situation.

MI6 had given him time to heal, and he'd even received a paycheck from them, retroactively paid from his first mission- not an inconsiderable amount. With the help of his tutor, Damon, he had quickly caught up on his missed course work and even felt relatively ready for his exams. Sonya, the housekeeper, was quiet and never entered his room, having requested that his laundry be left outside his door. He hated the councilor, Dr. Morton, but despite that, understood it was a necessary part of his job. He knew even Wolf and Snake saw one on a regular basis. They had told him after another report that Alex was being less than cooperative.

All in all, the only person who didn't seem to be keeping his end of the bargain was Alex.

"If you take him out with a roundhouse you'll be able to finish him off with the Special and get a perfect win," Alex pointed out. The timer was ticking down and both men had yet to manage a score.

Neither man showed their surprise, and instead Wolf followed his advice and promptly killed Snake. They paused the game and looked back at him. To their credit, it was probably very obvious that he had been crying, but neither said anything about it.

"Next time you're on _my_ side, right Cub?" Snake growled.

Alex chuckled, climbed over the back of the couch, and sat down in between the two men. Without a word, Snake handed him the controller.

Wolf growled. "All right, let's see what you got, hotshot."

It wasn't much, but it was a start, and all three would take what they could get.

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It was Friday night, and Snake was already calling for Takeout. The rest of K Unit would be over soon, they always were on Fridays if they weren't on assignment, and he was going to be ready for them.

The last week had been an awkward phase of adjustment. Alex had made more of an effort to actually become comfortable with them. He even spoke to them after school now, and they had talked about their days.

It was very clear, however, that two areas were still off limits. If questions about his missions came up, Alex usually claimed coursework and disappeared to his room. Equally, if any questions concerning his health, physical or otherwise, came up, Alex would answer with his traditional 'I'm fine' and would then change the subject. He and Wolf had had no choice but to accept these boundaries of this slowly budding relationship.

Even the look of the house had changed. Three days after Alex had made that initial effort with the game, he had taken everything that had been Jack's down. It hadn't been lost on the two men what it meant. It had been a subtle olive branch. A sign that Alex accepted his life had changed, and a small invitation to them to become part of it.

Alex had also taken over his Uncle Ian's office. That had been a far less welcome sign that Alex had thrown his lot in with MI6. He had spent days writing up extremely detailed reports of his missions, just in case someone else showed up from his past, he had said. He also kept a copy of his rather extensive medical file.

Unspoken was the trust that Alex had put in them not to go looking into those files. That had been, rather unfortunately, followed by Alex locking the door to the office whenever he wasn't in it.

Now Snake was alone in the house, waiting for everyone to arrive. Wolf would be back from his counseling session any moment, and Alex from school. He knew they had made considerable progress over the past week, and was ready to celebrate it.

K Unit arrived together a minute before Wolf entered.

"What's for dinner?" Eagle demanded.

"I don't know," Snake answered with a grin. "What do you feel like treating us to?"

Eagle frowned at the man before smiling. "I could cook," he offered sweetly.

A thundering herd of three men running out of the house was what greeted Alex when he got home. He'd been about to open the door when it was whipped open.

"Very funny guys. _Drama queens_!" Eagle called from the kitchen, aware that they had been joking. Weren't they? He was a good cook. After all, he hadn't poisoned himself yet.

"Nice to see you too, guys," Alex greeted calmly. "But you _are_ aware that we have neighbors, right?"

"It could have been worse, Cub. Last time Eagle said he'd cook, Fox jumped right out of the shower and ran home," Wolf grinned.

"Does _anything_ surprise you, kid?" Fox grumbled, changing the subject.

Alex shrugged and pushed them back into the house, feeling rather foolish standing on his doorstep facing three very large men. "I try not to let it."

The returned to the kitchen and an extremely indignant Eagle, who immediately cheered up at seeing Alex.

"Cub! You like my cooking, don't you?"

Alex grinned. Eagle had never cooked for him, but the chance to play was too good to pass up.

"I always like what I haven't tried, Derek, until I've tried it only to find I never liked it."

"Thanks- hey! What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Alex shrugged his shoulders and went to his room. He had a ton of coursework due on Monday, and needed to get started. It would probably take him the rest of the weekend. He listened to the antics going on downstairs with a light heart.

He would never admit it to anyone, not even under torture, but he felt safe when K Unit was gathered in the house. It was nice not to have to worry about making them targets just by being around them, and definitely a load off of his shoulders to know that even if they were targeted, they were more than capable of looking after themselves.

He had just opened his history books when he felt that instinct, that raising of his hackles that told him he was in danger. Without thinking twice, he threw himself to the floor, just as his bedroom window smashed.

He heard the others on the stairs, but stayed where he was for a moment to make sure it was safe. When nothing else followed, he slowly eased himself up, and looked at the brick that had landed on his desk. Had he remained in his chair, it would have hit him in the side of the head, probably knocking him out. Still crouching low, he made his way to his window, rising only enough to see outside, with his back to the wall.

There was nothing. Standing upright, he offered himself as a target for several seconds before K Unit came crashing into his room.

"Cub! Get away from the window!" Wolf ordered. Alex rolled his eyes, but obediently moved away. Did they _really_ think he was _that_ much of an amateur that he hadn't checked it out, first?

Letting Wolf inspect the outside, Alex picked up the brick that had been thrown. At first he thought it had just been a trick from one of his mates. He turned the brick over, and that's when his hopes of it merely being a boyhood trick were dashed.

On the other side of the brick a single symbol had been painted in red. A part of him had expected it to be a silver scorpion. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found it to be the Japanese symbol for 'DANGER'.

"What is it, Alex?" Fox asked.

"I don't know."

Wolf frowned at the brick, and then at him. "I didn't think you were involved in anything right now."

"I'm not, I swear!" Alex denied firmly. "It could be anything."

Eagle peered closely at Alex. "This isn't like Cornwall, is it? Where you know something but aren't telling us?"

"I _did_ tell you what was going with Cornwall! I just didn't have time to write it all out. I swear to all of you, I have no idea what this is for."

Alex was getting angry. He had tried to show a little trust for them, couldn't they at least do the same?

"It's a symbol of some kind. Chinese, maybe?" Snake said as he looked at the brick.

"Japanese. And it means danger," Alex explained. He saw the other men staring at him, and shrugged. "I know a few languages. But I have no idea why it was thrown into my bedroom."

"Any chance it was one of your mates?" Wolf asked.

Alex nodded. "It's possible." Unlikely, given who he was, but possible.

The doorbell rang just then. Snake blinked in surprised. He had forgotten about dinner. "Alex, get that would you, it's our supper. We'll try to fix the window up as much as we can."

Alex disappeared down the stairs, still frowning over the brick sitting on his desk. It seemed like such a crude delivery method, and try as he might, he couldn't think of anyone he had ever dealt with that would have resorted to such methods.

Opening the door, he blindly handed the man the pounds that had been sitting on the table by the door. Snake usually had the right amount there. He didn't look up until he heard the click of a gun. Then he did so slowly, and saw a very nervous looking delivery man, Asian, short, black hair and almond eyes.

"You must not make a single sound," the man warned, his English heavily accented. Alex nodded. The man waved the gun for Alex to follow. Alex hesitated a moment. Should he shout? Give K Unit some kind of warning? "Please, you must come. I do not want to kill you."

Seeing no choice, Alex left.

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Fox happened to be looking out the broken window when he saw Alex walking to the delivery car. Was he getting change? But then he saw the glint of a gun catch in the last few rays of sun.

Shit. He was running before K Unit had a chance to catch on that something was wrong. Without questioning, they followed. But by the time they had reached the street, the car, and Alex, were gone.

"Shit!" Fox swore again, coming to a halt.

"What happened?" Wolf demanded, coming upside his friend, confused, but willing to wait for answers.

"Our pizza man just kidnapped Alex!"

"Are you sure?" Eagle asked. "It's not totally unlike Alex to disappear. Especially if he thought we were going overprotective upstairs."

Fox nodded. "I saw the gun."

The four men returned to the house.

"We'd better call MI6," Snake pointed out.

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Mrs. Jones slammed down the phone. This wasn't good, wasn't good at all. She saw Mr. Blunt patiently waiting to alert him as to the problem.

"Someone has kidnapped Alex Rider."

"I didn't think that was possible," Blunt frowned.

"Our security was looking into a previous incident. Apparently, someone had thrown a brick through Alex's window."

"A distraction?"

"I would say so. K Unit have no further information. They have provided the name of the pizza parlor, as well as a description of their usual delivery man. Nothing of any use." Jones already knew all that. No one got near the Rider house without being investigated by them.

"I'll have our men look into all of our active projects. It could take some time," Mrs. Jones continued.

Blunt nodded his agreement, and she left, wondering. The truth was, they _had_ been intending on sending Alex on assignment soon. She wondered vaguely if the two were connected, but dismissed the thought. No one outside MI6's highest ranks yet knew about it. It was impossible.

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The change of cars had let Alex know that this had been carefully planned. He was now handcuffed, and gagged. The little Asian man hadn't provided a name, and had merely driven in silence, one hand on the steering wheel, the other holding a gun on Alex.

Alex himself was extremely curious. Had the brick been a warning, or a distraction? Either way, they had fallen for it. And where had the MI6 security been? Only an hour ago he had felt safe knowing K Unit had been in the house, but there had been nothing they could do to stop it.

Nothing could have been done differently. If he had shouted, then he would have died where he stood. Surviving a bullet from a sniper had been lucky enough, surviving one at point blank range would have been a miracle of biblical proportions.

The Little Asian, which is what Alex had named his captor, was clearly a middle man. The man was nervous, sweating, and racing through the streets to get rid of his cargo as soon as possible. Any professional would have been slower, more methodical, and would not be risking a speeding ticket.

Trying not to be obvious about it, Alex was keeping careful track of where they were going. Who knew if it might be useful. And while it was now fully dark, the street lamps were frequent enough for him to get a general sense of direction.

They were heading out of the City, that much was for sure. Were they leaving it, or were they heading for the ports? Alex found himself hoping they were merely leaving the city. He could still be tracked, if that were the case.

The Little Asian took a turn, and Alex felt his hopes drop. They were heading for the ports. If he found himself on a boat, he could be going anywhere. He vaguely wondered if the tracking device Smithers had injected him with weeks ago would work again if he died. Or was it still transmitting? He made a mental note to ask the man when, or if, he got back. Given the amount of blood he had lost after being injected, Alex was ready to accept that the tracking device was gone. They hadn't been able to follow him to Cornwall, after all.

Another mental note to speak to Smithers. Try making a tracker that didn't involve death to work.

The ports were only half an hour away. Half an hour to somehow find a way to get out of the handcuffs, remove the gag, and dive out of a fast moving car without getting shot.

Somehow, he wasn't feeling particularly hopeful.

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Wolf paced around the kitchen. He felt frustrated and antsy. Snake seemed to be taking forever breaking into Cub's office. He knew it was a breach of trust, hard earned at that, but he felt they had no choice. They had to find out who Cub's enemies were before they could start trying to figure out what had happened. MI6 was being less than forthcoming, as usual.

Fortunately for them, MI6 wasn't aware of the files Alex had made up.

"Déjà vu," Fox whispered to Eagle, who nodded. It wasn't a kind reminder. The last time Wolf had been pacing around like this, it hadn't ended well.

Snake finally appeared with a thick stack of files, and dumped them on the table. "There, this is everything from his office."

Each man reached out and grabbed one.

Almost immediately, four groans were heard.

"So much for trust," Wolf growled, slamming the file shut. Alex had written the files in code. They were a jumbled mess.

"I think it had more to do with security. Alex has been at this long enough to know what a risk he was taking writing these files," Snake answered. "This was his way of protecting them- and us."

"He doesn't bloody need to protect us!" Wolf snarled.

"Maybe not. But that's not how his mind works. Alex doesn't take chances, and let's face it, we're an unknown variable," Snake continued calmly. "And to prove his point, we are, after all, looking at these. We broke into his office to do it."

"It's to try and help him!" Eagle defended.

Snake shook his head. "Alex won't see it that way. It's one more sign that everyone he's attached to is out to use him, or what he knows, to suit their own goals."

"I suppose trying to find a diary won't be any good," Fox offered.

Wolf snorted. "Even if he did keep one, it would probably be in code."

"So what do we do now?" Eagle asked.

"Nothing. We trust that Alex can somehow get himself out of this, or that MI6 figures it out before it's too late," Snake replied, ever the calm voice of the unit.

Wolf made a face, but Snake was right. There was absolutely nothing they could do except wait.

For the second time since meeting Alex Rider, K Unit were totally helpless.

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The car came to an abrupt stop. Alex waited until The Little Asian man had closed the driver side door before reefing his own open and diving through it. He managed to roll himself to his feet and took off running.

Bullets hit pavement and wood all around him as he zig zagged, creating a much more difficult target to hit. He heard the little man shouting after him, but didn't dare take the time to look back. It was taking everything he had to maintain his balance, his hands still handcuffed, and without losing speed.

He ran without any real sense of direction, just knowing he had to get away. If he could find somewhere to hide, it would be all right. But to do that, he first had to lose the surprisingly fast Asian. The bullets were getting closer. Shouldn't he have run out by now? Sooner or later, the Asian was going to have to stop and reload.

It was getting difficult to breathe through only his nose as his lungs worked harder then they had in some time. Gritting his teeth underneath the gag, Alex forced another burst of speed out of himself.

At the same time, the Asian ran out of bullets. Alex took the first corner he came to, then the next, just to make sure he was well out of sight. Backed up against the wall of an alley, he yanked the tape off of his mouth, sucking in huge gulps of air. The burning in his lungs eased a little, but his muscles were still shaking with weakness. He was too out of shape for this. His karate katas had slowly worked the lean muscles, but he hadn't had time to prepare them for a run like that.

He tried to think of what he was going to do now. He hadn't spent a lot of time here at the ports, and didn't know his way around. He had chosen this alley to rest in because it definitely had a way out the other side. He heard the Asian rattling off angrily in Japanese. He heard the word 'gaki' several times, loosely translated it meant 'brat'.

He didn't have time to listen. He quickly, and awkwardly, pulled out his cell phone. He didn't dare risk calling anyone, so he opened his text messenger.

"JAPANESE. PORTS. DELIVERY MIDDLE MAN. NO SCORPIONS."

Alex turned his head, his finger automatically pressing the send button, when he heard a noise. Too late, he felt a breeze on the side of his face, and then his world went black.

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Wolf frowned at the text message he had received as he waited for Mrs. Jones to arrive in her office. The words made no sense. Why would Cub send him a coded text message? As soon as he had received it, he had immediately called MI6. He had then been escorted to Mrs. Jones office, and Wolf wondered why here, and not Blunts.

Mrs. Jones finally arrived. "Let me see the message," she ordered.

Wolf obediently held out his phone.

Mrs. Jones frowned. The words by themselves didn't make any sense, but if she put them together with what she already knew, it all added up to a very bad situation.

"You know what he means, don't you?" Wolf demanded.

"I'm afraid I do. We've received information that there is a Yakuza cell working out of London. They're collecting, sometimes kidnapping people, and selling them as slaves abroad. Recently, a very important man's son was taken. He was killed, and when the police found his body they found he had been, among other things, branded."

"Among other things? What kind of _other_ things?"

"Given the current situation, I think you're better off not knowing," Mrs. Jones replied calmly. "This was the fourth such found in as many months. All of them young boys, all with VIP parents, and all of them branded with a symbol known to be used by the Yakuza. Several more have been reported missing and are, as of yet, un-recovered."

"You were going to send Alex in undercover," Wolf guessed.

Mrs. Jones nodded. "Indeed. We were in the process of setting up a cover for him when he was taken."

"So you think the Yakuza got to him before he could get to them? How would they know?"

"That, Mr. Martin, is becoming a very disturbing question, and one that needs to be answered very quickly."

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The first thing Alex heard when he woke up were voices, arguing loudly in Japanese. He heard the word "Yakuza" a couple of times, but ignored it. The second was the constant drone of an airplane engine. Not a boat, then. He tried to move, but found he was tied- very tightly- to a seat. His wrists were bound to the arms, his ankles had been tied together, and there was a thick coil of rope around his middle.

His muscles were sore and stiff, telling him that he'd been in this position for quite some time. His face itched and he recognized the feeling of dried blood. His head was pounding, letting him know how they had knocked him out.

"Ah, our young guest is awake," someone called out. Alex forced his eyes open, and noticed that there were six Asian men sitting around him. All of them were dressed in pinstripe black and gray suits. They ranged in various ages, though none were younger than fifty. Several had various scars on their faces.

Beyond them were twelve guards, their faces covered in cloth masks, standing at attention, each one with their hand on their guns, AK-47's. Somehow, Alex couldn't bring himself to be surprised. He didn't see the Little Asian man anywhere.

He could see daylight out the plane window. How far had they gone? Where were they going? And why on earth had he been targeted? As far as he knew, he hadn't ever dealt with the Yakuza before.

"Are you going to talk to us, Mr. Rider?" A man, who was leaning heavily on a silver cane, asked. His voice was heavily accented, but his English was perfect.

"Who are you?" Alex demanded.

"You may call me Colonel Sato. My associates do not need introductions as they cannot speak English."

"Why am I here?"

"Surely you know the answer to that, Mr. Rider. May I call you Alex?"

"I_ don't_ know the answer. Why am I here?" Vaguely, Alex wondered how much they knew about him. Obviously enough, if they knew his name and where he lived. For someone who was supposed to be England's best kept secret, his information seemed to be available to anyone who knew where to look.

"MI6 had been preparing for you to go under cover in one of my operations. I merely got to you first," Sato explained calmly.

And all at once Alex realized he'd made a deadly mistake. He hadn't reported the leak after Cornwall. Having been shot and left to recover his voice, his debriefing had been short, and hand written. He had forgotten about the other leak in MI6. Dr. Kiln hadn't been the only one selling information to the highest bidder.

And now that mistake would most likely cost him his life. The Yakuza were more than likely prepared for anything he might do, which was why he was so tightly contained. He had defeated SCORPIA twice, and now no one was taking any chances with him.

"What operation was that?" Alex asked. There was no point in denying anything.

"You will soon find out, Alex. I am curious to know how MI6 thought a mere boy would be able to help them, and, I must admit to being slightly insulted."

Alex snorted. Sayle had said the same thing, and now he was dead. He remained silent.

Sato nodded. "Very well. Keep your secrets, such as they are." Another flurry of Japanese came from the other men. Alex had to work to keep his reaction to himself. He didn't know how much information this man had, and assuming they knew everything would be a mistake. They were arguing with Sato, shouting that he kill Alex now. Sato appeared to ignore them. He was obviously in charge as he waved his hand and the shouting stopped.

"My associates want to kill you now. How do you feel about that?" Sato asked calmly.

Alex smirked. "If it means I don't have to listen to you anymore, by all means."

"Ah yes, sarcasm. The last defense of the desperate. I am afraid that will not work here, Alex. I know you are not afraid of death. You would not be as calm as you are if you were. However, I highly suspect that I _do_ know your greatest fear."

Alex was silent. _He_ barely knew his greatest fear, and it certainly wasn't death. What was there to fear, then, if not the ultimate end? It was a testament of his growing acceptance of his life with K Unit now that he didn't especially _want_ to die, but he would if he had to.

Sato had sat back, obviously ending the conversation.

Alex was left alone with his pounding headache and his thoughts. What were K Unit doing now? If MI6 had been preparing to send him on assignment, had they made the connection yet? Would they have told K Unit?

What kind of operation were the Yakuza running? Sato hadn't seemed inclined to tell him, which was odd. Normally the criminals were only too happy to feed Alex every scrap of information he wanted, assuming they would kill him and succeed.

Sato seemed to be different. The man was full of confidence, and ego, but he wasn't cocky. Alex would find out in due time, when it suited the Yakuza cell leader, and not before. Was there a chance that could be used against him?

He was surprised when a stewardess, a small, meek, woman who wouldn't look him in the eye, came round and cleaned his wound, being very gentle about it. Then she cleaned the blood from his face. When she was finished, she left without uttering a sound.

Now that he had time to consider, Sato seemed to be taking very good care of Alex. The ropes were tight, but the sleeves of his shirt had been pulled down to prevent contact with his skin, and his socks had been pulled up for the same purpose. They needed him in one piece, but what for?

Confident that he was safe for the moment, Alex closed his eyes and allowed himself to sleep.

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Alex woke to the jolt of landing. He looked out the window, and could see only trees. Lush trees. Rainforest type trees. Okay, Alex figured, so they were somewhere in South America. What were the Yakuza doing here?

For the first time, he began to realize how truly trapped he was. No one had any idea where he was, he had no gadgets to save the day, and he was being carefully watched. Even if he did manage to get away, he wouldn't know where to go. All he knew was that he was somewhere, he was guessing, in South America with a Yakuza cell leader. There wouldn't be any eleventh hour rescue, not this time. He was on his own.

It wasn't a pleasant realization.


	2. Breaking Point

CHAPTER 2- Breaking Point

**AN: Any conversations in full Italics are actually being spoken in Japanese.**

Alex paced around the small room he was being held in. It looked like an interrogation room, with a small table and two chairs on either side of it. The only other furnishings in the room was a small lamp on the table.

He hadn't had a chance to see anything. Before he'd been untied, he'd been blindfolded, effectively cutting off any chance he might have had to assess his situation. It had been frustrating. His guards had made sure he felt the barrels of their guns pressed against him.

Personally, he thought it was a bit of overkill, but he'd managed to keep silent about it. Sarcasm wasn't going to get him anywhere here. Colonel Sato had been right in suspecting it really was Alex's last defense. A sort of mental psych out as he prepared to deal with the bad guy in front of him. A stall tactic to give himself time to think.

Now the walls of the room seemed to be closing in on him. He wasn't usually claustrophobic, but this room added to the severity of his situation, was starting to get to him. He couldn't even go over the layout of wherever he was in his head because he hadn't been allowed to see it.

Growling in frustration, he swung at the lamp, knocking it off the desk. The small, petty and, frankly, stupid act gave him some satisfaction as the bulb broke. Now it was dark, but at least he'd managed to break something.

Florescent lights suddenly flickered on overhead. Alex sighed. So he wasn't even going to be given the comfort of darkness. He couldn't explain it. He just felt better in the dark, like he could hide.

Another effect of his work, he guessed. Darkness was a friend, now, and he had escaped to it many times. Was this Sato's next move? To torture him psychologically? He wondered if he should tell them it wouldn't work? That MI6 had pretty much screwed him up as much as humanly possible?

They had taken his watch, so he couldn't even count the hours that went by. Sometimes he paced, other times he tried to use the chairs to get to the florescent lights, just to have a weapon. The ceiling had been too high for that. However, he had managed to spot the hidden camera beside the light.

So he was being watched. Deciding not to give them much of a show, he calmly sat down in the same chair he'd used and stared. Meditation was something Ian Rider had forced him to learn, and he had learned to do it anywhere, on command.

Taking deep breaths, he continue to stare at the wall as he pictured a single flame in his mind, and slowly, carefully, fed every thought, every emotion, every signal his senses were sending to him into it. Once there was only the flame, he extinguished it.

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"_I still think we should kill him. Look at him, he's stronger than you led us to believe_," one of the six Asian men told Colonel Sato as they watched a monitor.

Sato merely smiled. "_Then it should be all the more fun when we break him, Major Takashi."_

"_And if we can't?_" Another man, Koshiko, asked impatiently.

"_Every_ _man has a breaking point, my friends. It merely requires the patience to find it_," Sato pointed out.

He was getting irritated with his colleagues constant demands to simply kill the boy. He didn't understand their irrational fear of him. Breaking someone's spirit was an art, and the boy was an empty canvas. Couldn't they see that?

He stood. It was time to see the young man.

His companions didn't follow him. He had known they wouldn't. They didn't have the stomach for his games. The guards let him into the room, where he stood, patiently waiting for the Rider boy to acknowledge him.

Unfortunately, after an hour had passed, and Alex hadn't so much as blinked, Sato was beginning to realize the true challenge ahead of him. It irked him that Takashi had been right, that the boy was much stronger than they had been led to believe.

The question was, what did he do now? If he made so much as a sound he would lose face in front of the men he knew were watching. On the same hand, he didn't have all day. He was trapped in a game of his own making. If he left now, it would still be conceding the point to a child!

He sat in the opposite chair and tapped his foot on the ground. It wouldn't be seen as odd, he frequently did so, but it might be enough to break the boy's concentration. He knew meditation when he saw it. The boy couldn't be practiced enough to hold it for long.

Three hours later, Sato knew he would have no choice but to admit defeat. He left the room, making sure his instructions to the guards outside were in English, and spoken loudly enough for Alex to hear.

"Beat him."

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Alex took a shuddering breath as the guards finally left the room. There wasn't a single inch of space on his body that didn't hurt. His split lip left a coppery taste in his mouth, and his abused shoulders throbbed.

They had held his arms behind his back while they beat him. It told him they all too well understood the effectiveness of pain. Each time he had tried to curl into himself to protect his stomach, it had pulled on his shoulders. He hadn't bothered to struggle, he knew it would be useless and probably just the incentive the guards needed to hurt him more severely. But the instinct to protect his vital organs wasn't something he had mastered any control over. As such, his shoulders shot agonizing flashes of pain through him every time he moved.

But through it all, he couldn't help but smile. He had won, a little, today. It was a small victory that had cost him dearly, but he would take what he could get. He knew Sato had lost face because of it.

He didn't understand what was happening, or why he was here, but he sure as hell wasn't going to go down without a fight.

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Four days later, Alex was getting bored of the game. Everyday, Sato came in and sat, waiting for Alex to acknowledge him. When that failed, he would order the guards to beat Alex again.

He could barely move through the pain, but he still wasn't going to be the one to end it. If Sato wanted to talk to him that badly, then he would just have to say hello. After all, it was Sato that had told him sarcasm wasn't going to work here. He had been right. Silence was proving much more effective.

Today, Sato was trying something new. As he sat down in his customary spot, guards brought in trays of food and laid them on the table. Alex understood enough about psychological warfare to know this was meant to tempt a reaction from him, since he'd had nothing but water since arriving.

He couldn't help but smirk to himself. _Now_ who was getting desperate? All the more entertaining was the knowledge that it wouldn't work. Four days without food was hardly driving him stark raving mad. At home, he usually ate a small breakfast, and maybe a bit of lunch, but he rarely ate more than a bite of supper. On missions, he rarely ate at all.

The exhaustion was getting to him, though. He had stopped sleeping well a year ago. And while, strangely, his nightmare didn't plague him here, he could only snatch small catnaps on the hard, floor. Even his near constant flashbacks had released him, for the moment. He didn't want to wonder at the psychology of it all. He had been given a break, time to deal with this mission without dealing with the past, and he would take it.

Sato ate carefully, being sure to enjoy each bite. The table had been laid with everything from sushi to the rare, exotic fruits the South Americas were known for. There was even a platter of meat and soft cheeses.

None of it even tempted Alex. The pain from his continual beatings had left him with a permanent feeling of nausea. He knew they would have to feed him sooner or later. The fact that he was given water every night let him know they wanted him alive for something.

He had briefly entertained the idea of giving in, just to find out what was going on. Unfortunately, on the heels of that thought, had been the realization that he really didn't care. It was one more mission. One more situation to get himself out of, if he could, and if he couldn't, to make damn sure he took down the operation with him.

One more day in the life of Alex Rider.

Sato's growl startled Alex out of his thoughts. The Colonel was obviously furious at being ignored, and had decided to end their face off. Alex thought he had excellent timing, too. He couldn't afford to get caught up in pity parties like that.

"You are a stubborn boy!" Sato snarled.

Alex shrugged painfully. "It's a family trait that seems to double in each generation."

"You would not have survived another beating so soon," Sato pointed out, though Alex suspected it was supposed to be a logical explanation as to why Sato had forfeited. Was it for his benefit, or for the camera's? Surely the others had gotten bored days ago.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Sato," Alex responded cheekily.

"Now that we have ended our stalemate, would like something to eat?" Sato offered graciously, his fury from the moment before seemingly forgotten.

Alex's stomach gave a heave at the thought of food. He knew he probably should eat. It might be a long time before he got to do so again, but he just couldn't convince his stomach of that.

He shook his head. "I'm good, actually."

Sato frowned, but immediately shook it off. If Alex hadn't been watching, he would have missed it.

"I must decided what to do with you. I have learned a great deal about you recently," Sato started.

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear," Alex interrupted with a smirk. He would get under this man's skin if it was the last thing he did.

But Sato wasn't fazed. "I never do, actually, which is why we have been monitoring you. I was obviously correct in my assumption that you do not fear your own death. You prefer the dark over light, and you have somehow managed to maintain a near constant state of meditation. Though you do not _like_ closed spaces, you can tolerate them. Pain is obviously not much of a deterrent to you. So I would wonder, Alex, what _is_ your weakness? You are too young not to have one."

Sato waited a moment, as if to see if Alex would actually answer. When he didn't get one, he nodded. "And you are very, very stubborn. I imagine that strength is what has enabled you to survive all that you have thus far. I assure you, here it will only bring punishment."

Alex had had enough. "If you know so much about me, then you know you're better off killing me now. Otherwise, I will bring you down. I've never failed a mission yet."

"But you are not on a mission, Alex," Sato pointed out smugly, as though he had just caught him out in some way.

Alex glared. "You gave me one the moment you brought me here."

"That may well be. However, I think you will find your situation quite different here. You see, we run several businesses in Mahdia, which is where you are. The Yakuza cannot be bothered to pay our employees, so we bring in fresh labor as often as we can. The working conditions are not, as you imagine, up to labor board standards."

Alex understood immediately. "You use slaves."

Sato nodded. "Very good. Now, here is my dilemma. I had originally thought to have you work the brothel. I can think of nothing else to break you spirit as quickly as being used as someone's whore. I am vaguely curious to know how long your young body would survive being used in a such a horrific way. Or would your mind give out first? Would you go mad, Alex, being used over and over again, nothing more than a vessel for someone's pleasure? Countless men blurring into one face as they spread their filth into you. Completely helpless to stop it."

The vision Sato had painted was flashing vividly through Alex's mind. His stomach, already sensitive, heaved. He leaned to the side of his chair and vomited. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to bring up, and within seconds he had been reduced to painful dry heaves that tore at his abused muscles.

Sato looked quite smug. "Just as I thought. Your greatest fear is not pain or death. It is a lack of control. Fortunately for you, the brothel, while surely the best way to break you, offers far too much freedom for someone as spirited as you. I have no doubt you could charm someone into releasing you."

Alex couldn't stop the shuddering gasp of relief that flowed through him. He knew the answer to Sato's question. His body had been trained to survive a lot over the past year. It would be his mind that went first. He was already half mad picturing the scene Sato had described. Living through it would be a hell all on it's own.

"Do not think I am being lenient, Alex. The mines are not much better. The average, previously healthy, adult male lasts approximately 30 days under the conditions there. The air polluted with dust and dirt so thick it is very easy to choke on it. Slaves are given 5 hours to sleep each night, in locked cages. Many do not rise again in the morning. A pretty little boy like yourself would face other dangers in the Cages. As it does sometimes happen, tunnels collapse. I assure you, we make no efforts to locate survivors."

Alex listened, but thought the mines sounded like paradise in comparison to the brothel.

Sato nodded, as thought he had gotten his point across. He signaled the guards to remove the food. As they finished, he turned to Alex.

"To ensure your cooperation in our mining efforts, I need not remind you that the brothel will be your next placement. Work, survive for as long as you can, and your time there will pass quickly. One single infraction, and you will be chained to a bed and I will personally allow each of my guards to have you before I open the door to other cliental."

Alex nodded, his nausea rising again. He understood perfectly. Worse, there was nothing he could do about it. Thirty days in the mines, or an eternity as a whore. Not matter how small a win he had thought he'd gained over Sato, the Colonel had him pegged. As far as incentives to cooperate went, Sato had picked the one that would terrify him the most.

The door closed, leaving Alex alone with the images his mind continued to throw at him. He had no choice. He could die slowly, or he could go mad. That was what his life had been reduced to. There was no hope to grab on to, no reason to resist anymore. His fate had been lain before him in a cold, calculating voice.

Alex leaned over and vomited again.


	3. The Mines

CHAPTER 3- The Mines

**AN: Uh, it's going to get pretty graphic from here on out. It's rated M for a reason. WARNING: Attempted non-con, torture, etc. **

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Alex's first thought of the small hut beside the mine was that it obviously belonged to a very high ranking guard. It was small, but definitely lavish in comparison to its surroundings. It was painted a bright red, with a symbol painted on the side of it in black. It was a triangle with the same symbol that had been painted on the brick inside.

His guards, he had been surprised to see they weren't all Japanese, led him inside the hut. And that was when he realized what this hut was used for. There was a large brazier sitting in the middle of the hut, making it uncomfortably hot. There were several poker sitting in the fire, their ends bright cherry red. Each poker had the same emblem at the end of them as what was painted on the hut.

It was a branding house.

He struggled, but he was being tightly held by the two Caucasian guards on his side. Another man was sitting in a chair, mashing up some kind of fine black dust. From the smell of it, Alex suspected it was charcoal.

"Boss wants another calling card," one his Guards said.

The man looked up from his work and studied Alex carefully. "Another young one, Carl? Where is Sato finding these kids?"

Carl shrugged. "Not my business to ask, Matt, you know that. Where do you want it?"

Matt's eyes hadn't left Alex, and now Alex realized why. He was searching for a place to brand. He began to sweat, and it wasn't entirely from the heat of the hut. He flinched as Matt seemed to come to a decision.

"He's thin. He's not going to be able to work for a day or so afterward. Not if you want the brand to set."

"Boss knows that. He says just do it," the other guard answered.

Matt nodded. "I'll get his shoulder blade then. It'll heal faster and won't compromise any major systems. Get him onto the table."

The two guards hustled Alex over to a table that had restraints on it. He struggled again, hoping maybe he was sweating enough to break free, but they were prepared for him and had tightened their grip.

The next thing Alex knew he was lying face down on the table, his arms, legs and waist restrained by thick leather straps. His head had been pushed roughly to the side, and then it too was strapped down. He was left staring at the wall opposite the brazier. He tried to move, but found he couldn't. He felt them rip apart his shirt.

"Are you sure about this, Matt?" Carl asked. "The last one you said would survive this died from the shock of it."

"He was a spoiled rich kid who had never so much as scraped his knee. Look at this kids back. Those are whip scars. This'll just be another bad day for him, won't it, boy?" Matt asked cheerfully.

Alex struggled again as the other men laughed. But his mind was on what had been said. Another young one? Spoiled rich kid? Was that why MI6 had been going to send him here undercover? He forced his mind to remember the newscasts. Yes, the children of the rich and important had been going missing for some months now. Several had been found dead, their details never released. All of them had been boys around his age.

Had he, at last, found Sato's weakness? His desire to show off his work? To show how powerful he was? Or had he grown bored with simply picking off immigrants and wanted to show the world that _everyone_ was vulnerable, no matter your position in life? Or was this a personal vendetta?

His mind turned to other thoughts as he heard the iron being taken out of the brazier. He felt the intense heat on his skin, warning him of what was about to happen, as Matt tried to center his location.

Alex screamed as raw heat touched his skin. He heard it sizzle, and the pressure that was being put on the poker was guaranteeing it would be a deep brand. The pain was like nothing he had ever experienced before. It ran straight through every nerve in his body, finding each pain censor and activating it. He couldn't have stopped screaming if he'd wanted to. He felt like his shoulder blade was melting. He felt the heat penetrate his muscle and bone.

Then, mercifully, he passed out.

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Sato sipped his coffee leisurely. The boy had been branded two days ago. As of yet, he hadn't woken, but Matt was confident the brand was healing nicely. Charcoal had been rubbed into the wound. It would eventually fade, but as the wound scabbed and healed, it would keep the dark color enough for it to be visible. It would look like a very rough and faded raised tattoo.

He looked over at a picture on his desk. In the picture was a young boy, about fourteen years old, with dark skin and wide almond eyes. He was smiling.

He thought again how fortunate he'd been to have been given this opportunity. His source had been most informative, though he now knew that there had been plenty left out of the report. He suspected that it had been done intentionally, and that he had been fed only enough information to get his cooperation.

He wasn't stupid. He knew what MI6 had been up to. This was their way of getting Alex inside his operation. They were extremely confident that the boy could handle himself from there.

He took pleasure in knowing how wrong they had been. It had taken almost a week, but he had, at last, discovered Alex's Achilles Heel. It was going to be rather easy to control him for however long he lasted.

He looked at the picture again. His nephew had been the one bright spark in his life, and London had destroyed that.

He thought it only fair that he destroy London's greatest weapon in exchange.

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Alex frowned as he woke. It was taking him a moment to get his bearings, but the blazing pain in his shoulder served to remind him quickly enough. He was still strapped to the table. He tried to move, but only succeeded in aggravating his shoulder.

"Ah, you're awake," Matt purred, seeing the boys eyes open. "Very good. I was beginning to get worried. A man can only take so much, you know. I was afraid we'd pushed your threshold. I'm pleased to see I was wrong. You're healing nicely, by the way. I don't think we have to worry about infection anymore."

Alex felt the restraints being opened. He stayed absolutely still until at last his legs were released. He immediately rolled to the floor, intending to land on his feet, but for some reason, his legs wouldn't hold him, and he collapsed.

Breathing hard, he glared at Matt, who was simply standing there, watching him, with a smirk on his face.

"You've been unconscious for about three days, my boy. And from what Sato tells me, sitting in one position for almost a week prior, receiving regular beatings. Your muscles aren't going to obey you as well as you might think."

For some insane reason, Matt suddenly reminded Alex of Smithers. The incessant rambling and the odd sense of humor all came together. The obvious difference being that Matt was a psychopath, while Smithers was merely eccentric.

He couldn't help it. He laughed. And he couldn't stop. He laughed until there were tears in his eyes, which he wiped away just as they were replaced by more. Had he finally flipped? Was that what this was? There wasn't really anything funny about the situation, but for the life of him, he couldn't stop laughing.

Matt arched an eyebrow. "Oh dear. This isn't a very good sign of your stability, you know."

Alex guffawed. He should stop, he knew he should. Provoking a man with hot irons wasn't the most intelligent thing he could do at the moment, but he didn't care. It was relief, it was horror, it was panic, it was soul deep terrifying fear, and it was acceptance all muddled in together expressed through laughter.

Carl walked in the door, just then, and wasn't ready for what he found. The captive was sitting on the floor beside the table, laughing his fool head off, while Matt was standing there, looking completely mystified.

"Not your usual reaction," Carl stated.

"I think he's cracked," Matt replied firmly.

Carl shrugged. "Won't make any difference in the mines. So long as he can do the work."

Matt nodded at the hint of question. "Quite aside his obviously unstable emotional state, his brand is healing perfectly. The color has set in deep, and we're beyond infection. I want to see him in a week, though. Just to be sure."

"I don't know why Sato let's you play doctor," Carl growled.

Matt grinned. "I keep his slaves alive longer. Dying from infection does seem a rather easy way out, don't you think?"

Carl grunted, but leaned over and hauled Alex to his feet. He was still shaking from his momentary bout of insanity, but his laughter had at least died off. Unfortunately, his legs weren't quite ready to support him.

Carl shot a look at Matt, who responded instantly. "His muscles have weakened quite a bit. Get some food and water into him, force him to go on a bit of a run, give him tonight to rest, and he should be fit by tomorrow."

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Alex gasped as he was shoved into a cell. Solitary, Carl had called it, to protect him from the other slaves for tonight. His muscles were quivering, and he had to admit, he was no longer laughing.

Carl had indeed forced him on a 'bit of a run'. He had been forced to jog around the entire village. When he'd slowed, Carl had almost run him over with the jeep he was following. Then Alex had been put through several hours of calisthenics. The heat and humidity had felt like ten pound sacks sitting on his shoulders.

Food had been almost literally shoved down his throat before and after. He had narrowly escaped drowning when Carl tried to force water on him.

He personally thought SAS could learn a thing or two about training from this place.

But it had been worth it. The village itself was quite small, with only one main business drag. The mines were only about three miles from the village centre. He'd seen quite a few people, but they'd all been broken long ago. There wouldn't have been any point in shouting out for help. None would have. They had learned the hard way to go about their lives, or they would find themselves in a similar situation, if they weren't already.

Still, it had given him a chance to recon his prison. He had a layout of the village in his mind. Locating telephones had been easy. There were only two wires in the entire compound. One ran straight to what was obviously Sato's main house, the other ran to the Branding House.

Alex closed his eyes. He was exhausted, and his shoulder was issuing constant waves of pain. The skin might be healing well, but the muscles underneath had been severely traumatized. His only saving grace was that Matt had chosen the shoulder opposite the one he had been shot in.

Was this it, then? If he somehow managed to escape from here, was this what he was running to? A life of pain, of terror, of horrifying images? Would MI6 ever let him go? He didn't want his old life back. He could never have that again. He had killed someone in cold blood. There just wasn't any going back from that. But didn't he have a right to ask for _some_ kind of life?

His father had managed to get married. His Uncle had raised a child. How had they done it? How had they overcome all of this, had managed to hide it from the people they loved? Alex wanted desperately to be able to ask them. He'd spent the last year living like this, trying to hide as much as he could from Jack and everyone else. He had lost all of his mates. And he had liked it that way.

People took too much effort, he had discovered. It was much easier to live as separate from they as he could. Even K Unit, who were trying so hard to make him feel as normal as possible, drained him. They had found a family in each other, so the loss of other mates didn't matter. It was too much work, trying to find a way into that family, even though they had invited him. Why bother? Sooner or later they would leave him too.

But all three had a common denominator. All three believed in what they were doing, and the country they were doing it for. They all the knowledge that what they were doing was right, and that it was worth a few sacrifices along the way. In the end, they had a cause.

Alex had no cause, no sense of righteousness. He had been blackmailed, bullied, used and abused time and time again. Could he have someday joined the spy ranks voluntarily? Probably. He believed in _what_ he was doing. Just not _who_ he was doing it for. But now, only a year after starting, he was beginning to realize the mistake MI6 had made.

Perhaps his Uncle _had_ been training him for this, but if he had, he had left out a vital part. You could train the body to do almost anything. What was harder to train, was the mind. If his Uncle had shared this part of his life with Alex, he thought he might be better suited to handle it. He could have asked questions, instead of having to muddle through on his own. He could have understood the sacrifices that came with it, and maybe, just maybe, might have been given a chance to make them voluntarily.

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The air in the tunnels were as thick as Sato had threatened. Alex couldn't help but try to cough every once in a while. He had a perpetual tickle at the back of his throat, which only seemed to worsen each time he tried to dislodge it.

Carl was leading him deeper into the dark tunnel. Bare light bulbs had been strung up along the top of the walls, but they hardly gave off enough light to see. They passed several people, all of varying ages, and all in varying degrees of health. Bloodshot eyes glanced at him, but quickly skittered away.

Some had chains on their ankles, others didn't. All were filthy, and almost all were clothed in some degree, though not all. Alex pulled his eyes away when he came across the odd naked man. He had to admit it was a relief to see that they were all men. While he was sure some of the women being forced to work in the brothel would have given their eye tooth was a quick and easy death like this, he somehow found it more acceptable that it be men working here.

He imagined he must have looked quite the sight to them, as well. He had only his jeans, socks and shoes. His T-shirt had been taken away during the branding. His scars and the branding were now highly visible against his pale skin. Curiously, however, he didn't see another brand. Cuts, bruises and other various injuries, but no one else had been branded.

"Come along, Rider. You can mingle later," Carl growled. Alex sped up. Sato's threat of putting him to work in the brothel was working amazingly well in ensuring his cooperation. He hadn't been chained, and he was free to walk behind the bulking guard.

It took Alex only another few minutes to realize how very lost one could get in the tunnels. There were no maps, no directions, and even his sense of direction was being confused by the constant twists and turns. He would have to learn the layout before he tried to escape.

Carl led him to a cage. Beside it was a guard who barely looked up when they stopped in front of him.

"Got another one, do you?"

"Yep. Another one of Sato's 'special projects', Ed."

Ed looked up now, surprised. Without a word, he turned Alex around. "And branded, no less. Am I supposed to pair him up with the other one?"

Carl shrugged. "This is your domain, Ed. I just bring them to you." He turned to Alex with a sneer on his face. "Good luck, Kid. I expect I'll be carrying your body out pretty soon."

"I wouldn't bet too much of your pathetic salary on that," Alex replied.

Carl grunted. "Make sure you tell him the rules, Ed." And left.

Alex turned around to face the guard. He was obviously Hispanic, black hair, dark skin, and very, very big. He was only about as tall as Alex, but he was solid muscle, and about three times as wide as him.

"So then, the rules?" Alex asked.

Ed frowned. "You're awfully calm."

Alex shrugged. "Sato has stated my position fairly clearly, as well as what would happen with non-compliance."

Ed snorted. "The rules in general are simple. You don't touch another slave. You don't talk to another slave. You work until you're told to stop. You have five hours to sleep every night. I suggest you make the most of it. You're paired up with another slave. Any breaking of the rules will result in the other being punished for it. If anyone tries to escape, we blow the tunnel they were last working in, unless someone is smart enough to report it. And believe it kid, people will turn you in around here. Life sucks, but most of them are just glad to still be alive."

Alex sighed. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, you're branded, none of that applies to you."

"What?"

"You're open season around here, Kid. None of the Brands have ever lasted long. I'm only going to take down your name because I need to report it when you're discovered dead somewhere." There was cruel smile on Ed's face that Alex seriously wanted to punch out. "So, what's your name? And don't lie to me. I can always ask Colonel Sato."

"Alex Rider."

Ed wrote it down, the nodded. "Right then. Let's get to the Pits shall we?"

Alex was surprised. "Those tunnels weren't the mines?"

"You don't know much about diamond mining, do you, Kid? Diamonds are only naturally formed in high pressure, high temperature, no oxygen environments. Usually Volcanic tubes or meteor craters. They certainly don't look like the diamonds on your mothers finger. The Pits have been exposed for a few years now, and it's getting harder to find them. The slaves are almost to the point of having to blast to get anywhere. This cell behind me is the Cage, and it's where you'll be sleeping. Come through here to the Pits."

Ed led the way, and Alex followed. He was slightly impressed with the geology lesson Ed had given him. Perhaps, if he was lucky, he was already missing this section in school. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what would happen if he were hit with a flashback in class.

After what seemed like an awful long walk, they emerged into the open air. Below him, Alex could see two giant pits slowly becoming one. He hadn't expected to see so many men, either. There were hundreds of them. All in similar conditions he had seen in the tunnels.

He had hoped the air out here would be better, but if anything, it was worse. As soon as he breathed in, he felt the air turn to mud and settle heavily in his lungs. He followed Ed's pointing finger to a boy working with what looked to be explosives.

"There's your partner. Remember what I said, you screw up, and he gets it."

With that, he shoved Alex off the lip. He rolled painfully down the hill until he hit the bottom of the pit, facedown. Immediately turning his face away from the ground so as not to ingest more dust than he already had, he gasped.

He was definitely going to be sporting a few more bruises later, he thought as he forced himself to his feet. He knew he had very little time to get to work. Sato seemed to be waiting for any excuse to send him off to the brothel.

Slowly, he made his way to the boy Ed had pointed out, studying him as he walked. This boy was branded too, with the same symbol. He was perhaps the fattest person Alex had seen in Mahdia so far, with what might have once been dirty blond hair but was now simply dirty. He wore only ratty trousers. His feet were bare, but caked with heavy layers of mud.

Obviously bathing wasn't part of the curriculum here, because Alex was sure he could smell him before he ever reached him. Sweat ran in small streams down his mud encrusted back.

He seemed quite competent as he put together a charge. Alex approached cautiously.

"Hello." He offered.

The boy looked at him for a moment, as though completely surprised that someone would talk to him, and then turned back to his chore.

"My name's Alex Rider. What's yours?"

"Bryan Thompkins. Didn't Ed explain to you that you're not supposed to talk to other slaves?" Bryan huffed, and he had a very London accent.

Alex shrugged. "Yeah, but then he said the rules don't apply to me."

Bryan's eyes got wide and fearful. "You're branded?"

Alex nodded, wondering why this boy seemed to be so afraid of the fact. "Sure, aren't you?"

Bryan laughed miserably. "You have no idea what it means, do you?"

"So far it means we're beyond the rules."

"Only the convenient ones. Look, I tried being nice to the last Brand they stuck me with. It didn't end well for him. He only lasted a week before he died. So I'm going to tell you how it is," Bryan huffed.

He went on to describe every gruesome detail he could think of from the last Brand. The rapes, the beatings, starving because other slaves would take his food, running around naked because all his clothes had been torn off during previously mentioned activities. He told how the guards did nothing, and in some cases even watched. Alex was positive Bryan was purposely being gory, but he didn't doubt the validity of what he said. Still, once Bryan ran out of breath, Alex had only one question for him.

"How did _you_ survive?"

Bryan looked startled. "They don't like me because I'm fat. They still beat me up every once in a while, but if they're not going to get anything out of it, it's generally not worth the trouble. See that guy there? The big one?"

Alex followed the chubby finger and nodded. The man was perhaps the healthiest here, and looked bloody solid. Alex recognized his type immediately, the schoolyard bully. Which probably meant his brain was thicker than his biceps, but he wasn't prepared to entirely dismiss him. In his current condition, Alex couldn't rely as heavily on his speed as he once would have.

"That's Dexter," Bryan continued. "He's the worst. He likes to choke you while he takes you." Alex swallowed painfully. He didn't need to ask what the boy meant by 'takes you'. "He beats me up every now and again, but he's not allowed to do what he really wants to."

"What's that?" Alex asked, despite himself. All in all, the brothel suddenly wasn't sounding so bad. He understood now why Sato had warned him he wasn't being lenient. He had merely changed the setting, not the punishment.

"He wants to eat me."

Alex whipped his head back to look at Bryan. He had said it so calmly. Surely he couldn't be serious?

Bryan must have seen some of his doubt on his face, because he shrugged. "Believe what you will, but think about it. Food around here is pretty limited. Human beings do strange things to survive, Alex. Cannibalism isn't beyond some of these guys."

"You seem to handle things quite well," Alex pointed out.

"I'll last longer here than you will. Dexter has been eyeing you since the minute you stepped onto the lip. If you see another sunrise, I'll be surprised. Like I said, they don't like me, and they're not allowed to kill me. That's the only rule they have for us Brands. They can do whatever they like to us, but they're not allowed to kill us."

"How many other 'Brands' has there been?" Alex could have shot himself the moment the words left his mouth. He had just been told he was about to become someone's bitch, and all he could think of was getting more information. He should be looking after himself, not worry about a bunch of dead kids.

But he couldn't help it. He knew that treating this like any other mission was what was keeping him sane. And gathering information was at the base of all of his missions. It was what started the process. Gather the intel, get in trouble, and find a way out. Simple 1,2,3. Alex smirked, realizing he was very firmly planted in his odd form of denial.

"Since I've been here, about 4. All of them were from home, all of them with some rich parent. You now, I'm curious about. You're obviously from home, I can tell by your accent, but I don't remember ever seeing you in the social circles, and you're not stuck up," Bryan laid out.

"I'm definitely not from your circles, no. And I don't have rich parents," Alex replied evasively. He wasn't sure why he bothered. It's not like keeping his identity a secret mattered out here. He thought perhaps it was a small kindness to keep it to himself, and not offer the boy hope of rescue that wasn't coming. "Where did you learn to set a charge?"

"My father is a big construction tycoon. He insisted I learn the 'fundamentals' of the business. I must say, I rather hadn't expected it to be useful quite so soon. Ah, we'd best get to work, Alex, or we'll both get a whipping," Bryan advised as a guard started toward them.

Alex nodded. They worked together for some time as Bryan taught him what to do, before he realized that not once had Bryan asked about the scars on his body. Either he knew what they were, or he really didn't care.

Shrugging it off, Alex worked quietly. Building the charges took all of his concentration, and didn't allow much room for other thoughts. In a way, Alex was grateful for that. It meant he couldn't dwell on what he had learned today. He was, however, smart enough to grab a handful of black powder and put it in his jeans pocket.

The blaring of a horn startled him. He looked up and realized the sun was setting. He followed Bryan as he plodded up the hill. For such a stout boy, he was barely out of breath from the climb when they reached the top.

Unfortunately, Alex couldn't say the same. He was gasping. Bryan noticed, and shook his head. "You'll get lung sickness doing that. Learn to breath rapidly and shallow. It'll take a while, but it'll be worth it. Getting sick around here doesn't matter. You work until you die, simple as that."

"Thanks for the advice," Alex wheezed, trying to do as he had been told.

"Once we get to the cells, they're going to bring out a huge barrel of left over food. You and I will get to have first pick," Bryan explained as they walked through the darkened tunnels.

"Really?"

Bryan chuckled. "Of course. But don't think it's done for our benefit. It's to make the other prisoners hate us more. You'll soon find out it works. I'm a big boy, so I can afford to lose some weight. I just give Dexter half of whatever I take. I'm not sure you're lucky enough to be able to do the same," Bryan said, eyeing Alex up and down.

Alex shrugged. "Actually, I'm not much of an eater, and they've been giving us water all day."

"Then be sure to take double of what you're actually going to eat. Someone is going to try and take it away from you," Bryan advised.

Suddenly, Alex had a thought. "How old are you?"

"Fourteen. I've been here for almost three weeks now, so I've had time to learn the system. My father always used to say, 'it's not the situations you find yourself in, Bryan, it's how you survive the situations that makes a man out of you,'. I think he'd be happy to know I've taken his advice very seriously."

Ed glared at Alex as he walked into the cell. Bryan turned to him. "Pick yourself out a spot and initial it. That's where you'll sleep tonight. Most of the slaves follow the system. Now, no offense, but you're on Dexter's list, so I would prefer it if you were away from me at night."

Alex nodded. He picked a place close to the bars of the cage and quickly marked his initials into the dirt. He would sleep with his back to the bars, preventing anyone from coming up behind him. It would have been easier to just try to stay awake, but he was exhausted and knew it was a lost cause. He would just have to protect himself as well as he could.

He sat and waited until everyone had filed in. Bryan had been right. Dexter had seemed to take a particular interest in him, even going so far as to mark his initials not a foot away from where Alex had camped.

Once everyone had settled, three guards rolled in barrels of food. No one moved, though. Bryan stood up, waved at Alex, and went to the barrel. Alex followed his lead and simply pushed his hands in and brought them up full of food.

As soon as he had sat down again, it was like a signal went off. The guards immediately withdrew, slamming the door shut, and suddenly everyone was up and grabbing at the food. He understood now, why it was meant to make the others hate them.

One old man never rose from his spot. He was too old to beat back the crowds for his chance at food, and so avoided the injuries the crowd could cause. Alex beckoned him over. Surprised, the old man crawled slowly. Alex didn't know if he was slow because he was old and sore, or if it was because the man didn't trust him. He beckoned again, glancing at the crowd.

The old man seemed to understand, and hastened over. Alex took a few cooked carrots and a chunk of meat he was positive he didn't want to try and identify, and gave the rest to the old man. The vitamins and the protein should be enough to help stave off disease in this place.

The old man chewed and swallowed as quickly as he could. Alex ate more slowly, aware of his sensitive stomach, but nonetheless ate much quicker than he normally would have. The old man finished his food, and sat back.

Alex smiled at him. "Alex."

"Francois."

"Etes-vous finis?" Alex asked in French, surprising the older man. *_Are you finished?*_

"Oui, merci. Mais vous ne pouvez pas le faire de nouveau. Les autres no seront pas heureux et je suis un vieil homme mourant. Vous ne devriez pas gaspiller vos aliments." _*Yes, thank you. But you cannot do that again. The others will not be happy, and I am a dying old man. You shouldn't waste your food._

"Je n'ai pas peur des autres. De quelle longueur avez-vous ete ici?" _* I'm not afraid of the others. How long have you been here?*_

"Trop longtemps. Je dois trouver mon endroit de nouveau avant que les autres sont finis. Vous devriez etre prudents ici, Alex. La gentillesse n'est pas necessairement un trait excusable. Le merci, pour les aliments." _* Too long. I have to find my place again before the others are finished. You should be careful around here, Alex. Kindness is not necessarily a forgivable trait. Thank you, for the food._

"Je vous en prie, Francois. Et le merci pour votre conseil. Je serai prudent." _*You're welcome, Francois. And thank you for your advice. I will be careful.*_

The old man nodded at him again before scurrying back to his place. Alex noticed Bryan watching him curiously, but the boy returned to his own space without a word.

Alex closed his eyes and tried to settle the small meal. He had learned a lot today.

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The first thing Alex realized what that he couldn't breathe. The next was that he had rolled over onto his stomach in his sleep, exposing his back. Cursing himself, he tried to shout around the hand that covered his mouth.

"Go ahead, wriggle. I like it when they wriggle," a voice whispered in his ear. Alex nearly gagged on the sour smell of it, but stopped struggling immediately. Dexter. It had to be. He tried shouting again, but even those who were awake turned away, not wanting to watch what they knew was coming. Dexter managed to roll them both to their sides without loosening his grip.

Alex felt Dexter's hand slide under the waist of his jeans, and he began to panic. He tried to heave back, but the man had been prepared for it and merely tightened his hold on the struggling boy. Alex screamed. The hand muffled most of the sound, but not all of it.

"Go ahead and scream, boy. No one's going to do anything about it," Dexter growled. His hand had found what it was looking for, and closed around Alex's penis tightly.

Alex went mad. He began to thrash. His efforts of trying to pull away from the invading hand only served to push his ass more tightly against Dexter. Alex was nearly sick when he realized the other man was hard.

There was no escape. He screamed out his frustration as the hand fondled him, pulling sharply. Dexter seemed to have no real concern over whether or not Alex got hard. He was fondling to build his own erection, which Alex could feel every inch of behind him.

Tears leaked from his eyes. He had been able to remain calm when Bryan had warned him, but now that it was happening, he couldn't stand it. He tried biting the hand that was over his mouth, but Dexter never so much as flinched.

Dexter seemed to have gotten bored with his penis, and now his hand was moving around the waist of the jeans to- Alex shook his head, shouting again, begging, anything to make this stop. But it didn't matter. His words were unintelligible behind the massive paw that covered his mouth.

Alex's panted, trying desperately to draw enough air to feed his adrenaline pumped lungs. Ever beat of his heart felt like it could be heard across the room. It probably could. Dexter was right. No one was going to help him.

He screamed again as he felt a digit roughly penetrate his anus. The pain was sharp, intense and very unexpected. He couldn't do this, he knew he couldn't. He went limp. As soon as Dexter's hand came momentarily away from his mouth to readjust, Alex whipped his head back with all the force he could muster. He was immensely satisfied with the resulting crunch. Dexter's hand left his ass to hold his now broken nose, and Alex quickly rolled away.

He sat, shaking, his face wet with tears, as the horror of what had almost happened over took him. He leaned over and vomited the scarce meal he'd had. His mind shied away from it all. He couldn't deal with it.

"Alex, vien ici," Francois called.

Surprised, Alex turned to find the old man beckoning to him. Dexter was still screaming about his nose and was, for the moment, ignoring the boy.

"C'est d'accord. Vien ici, maintenant," Francois called again, realizing the boy was in shock.

Alex obeyed, happy to be as far away from Dexter as he could get. He didn't stop until he was sitting very close to the old man. Francois put an arm around his shoulders, and Alex sobbed out his terror. He'd never been so afraid in his life.

Francois held him, rubbing his back, but remained silent. He couldn't tell the boy it was all right, because it wasn't. There was nothing right about what had just happened, and would probably happen again. There wasn't anything any of them could do about it, no way to protect Alex.

Francois cried a few tears himself. The boy had been kind to him, and all he could do was hold him while he cried. Somehow, it just didn't seem fair.

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	4. Step 3

CHAPTER 4- Step 3

AN: Yeah, I warned ya. But ya didn't listen, didja?

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Snake wasn't surprised to see the rest of K Unit standing at his door, despite the early hour of the morning. They'd been almost a constant presence since Alex was missing. He wordlessly let them in.

Wolf was already sitting at the kitchen table, talking on the phone. They had all pooled together their resources and contacts from their missions to try and find the missing boy, but so far, nothing had worked.

This was the first real hope they had, since the contact had actually rang them. The men were quiet as they waited for Wolf to finish the call.

Wolf sighed as he hung up, putting his head in his hands.

"No luck?" Snake asked.

"We found him," Wolf whispered in relief.

"Is he alive?" Eagle asked carefully.

Wolf nodded. "For the moment. There was an altercation in the cell last night. Alex was involved. Ed wouldn't go into more than that, but it was bad. He won't survive another night there."

"Well where is he?" Fox demanded.

"Mahdia, Guyana. Ed is a guard there, and he owes me a favor."

"Can he get him out of there?"

"He said he'd see what he could do, and call me back when he had a plan."

Snake immediately picked up on the censure in Wolf's voice. "What is it?"

"He doesn't think Alex will go. Apparently he's become quite protective of another boy."

"And?"

"And I know Alex. He won't leave without making sure the rest of the prisoners are safe from the Yakuza. Unfortunately, they control the entire village. Getting in to get him is going to be almost impossible. The best we can do is be ready for when Alex makes his move."

Fox cursed. "I hate that boy sometimes."

Wolf sighed. "There's more."

Eagle flinched at the murderous look on his leaders face. "We're not going to like this, are we?"

"Ed knows who sold Alex out."

But Snake already knew. "MI6."

Wolf nodded. "Alan Blunt, to be specific."

"That's not possible. I mean, why would Blunt destroy one of his best operatives?" Fox demanded, shaking his head.

"Actually, in a weird and perverted way, it makes sense. Jones told me they were getting ready to send him in undercover, and that they were just making up his cover story. What better cover story than the real thing? Alex _is_ one of their best, _the_ best. Blunt is probably relying on Alex to pull another famous escape out of his hat," Wolf explained.

"And if he can't?"

"Then I'm pretty sure Alex Rider will join the ranks of Missing Children posters in the post office and never be spoken of again."

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Alex shifted uncomfortably in his crouched position. It had been a hell of a day, and last night's adventures weren't doing him any good either. Dexter had somehow managed to convince several of the other prisoners to beat the snot out of Alex in retribution for his broken nose.

He was pretty sure he hurt everywhere that it was possible to. He heard a scuff of gravel and looked up.

"Sorry about last night, mate. I _did_ try to warn you," Bryan put out.

Alex nodded. "It was my fault. I exposed my back instead of staying against the bars. I knew better."

"Are you alright, then?"

Alex merely glared at the other boy. Who in their right mind could possibly be okay after what had happened? Bryan seemed to get the message and backed off the topic. They worked together silently for hours, Bryan wincing in sympathy every time Alex flinched. The evidence of his beating was all over him.

His lip had been split, he was sporting a massive bruise on his cheek, there was a cut in his eyebrow that would probably scar. His back and chest were molted purple, red and black. It was pretty obvious from the way he moved that he had a couple of broken ribs as well. Alex's arms were red and bleeding as the boy tried to scratch off every layer of skin that had touched the deprived man the night before.

All in all, there was no way he could fend Dexter off tonight. And there was no escape. He could probably make it out himself, but there were others here who had it just as bad as Alex did, and probably deserved it less.

He couldn't help it. His stomach heaved as the horn sounded. Unfortunately, he had nothing left to bring up. He sat frozen to the spot, shaking. He couldn't do it. He couldn't go back in there and face that again tonight.

He felt hands grab him and immediately started struggling. He managed to land a solid punch and then felt nothing as he passed out, his body unable to handle it's panicked state anymore.

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Ed grunted as the boy went limp in his arms. He saw Carl coming his way, and motioned him over.

"Give me a hand, will ya? This brat is going to solitary for the night."

Carl frowned. "Sato said if there were any problems to send him to the brothel for the night."

"Too much work, and we're almost due for our dinner."

Carl nodded. "You're right."

Between the two of them, they managed to manhandle the unconscious boy into the solitary cell. They threw him in, mindless of his injuries. Carl stood back.

"You get him locked up. I'll save you a spot in the mess," he called as he left, not waiting for Ed's answer.

Quickly turning back to the boy, Ed slapped his bruised cheek, hoping the flare of pain would bring him around. It worked, rather unfortunately. The boy immediately started struggling.

"Calm down, boy. Listen, I have a contact in SAS that I owe a favor to. He knows you're here."

Alex calmed immediately, and took a moment to realize where he was. "Solitary?"

"Would you prefer if I let Dexter have his way with you?" Ed snarled.

Alex shook his head, the image making him nauseas again. "I'm good, thanks."

"My contact is going to be ready for anything you might do, but I suggest you do it tonight. I'm going to leave the door unlocked, but beyond that, I can't do anything. Almost all the guards will be having dinner in about ten minutes. It usually takes us about an hour. No one will be back to check on you."

"Why are you doing this?" Alex asked, trying to wrap his head around what he was hearing.

"Like I said, I owe a favor to a SAS contact. But more importantly, I owe a blood debt to another acquaintance of yours. Yassen Gregorovich. I know he's dead, but I figure this makes us even in the books. He wouldn't want you to rot here," Ed explained, and Alex saw a glimmer of emotion from the man. Obviously Ed considered his debt to Yassen more of a priority, dead or not.

Alex nodded. He realized he was still shaking and closed his eyes to calm himself down. He heard the door close, but knew it wouldn't be locked. He almost chuckled. Once again Yassen had managed to save his life in his own, unique, roundabout way.

He had to make his move tonight. But what could he do? He was alone, and beaten to a pulp. He was man enough to admit his mental state wasn't quite as fixed as it should be, either.

He tried to shake away the thoughts of everything that had happened over the past weeks. He had to get himself out of here, and somehow find a way to free everyone else too. He put himself into that meditative state, and carefully fed each of the events into the flame. Once that was done, he opened his eyes, but kept the flame alive. He didn't want to be blank, he wanted to be alert.

And all at once, it came to him. He had no choice. He was going to have to assassinate Sato and the others. Tonight. The Guards weren't paid well enough to die for their leaders. Ed was a perfect example of it. Cut off the head and the body would die.

What could he use? He knew they all stayed in the main house. He remembered the TNT in his pocket. The amount was too small for much of an explosion, but he knew where the rest of it was kept.

Alex swallowed. He didn't particularly enjoy the knowledge that the rest of the explosives were kept in the Branding House. He felt his mental flame waver under the pressure of the images coming to him, but fought to keep it under control. There would be time later, when all was said and done, for him to fall apart. For the moment, he had a mission to complete.

Quietly he opened the door, relieved to find no one around. Ed had been right. The Guards were happy in the knowledge that the prisoners were safely locked away for the night. He slipped out, realizing that the cell was actually an iron room built in the middle of nowhere. He knew he was going to be pushed to his limits tonight. His body screamed with every movement he made to simply lie down and rest, but he forced himself forward, to ignore the pain as much as he could.

He could barely see the light from the fire that was a permanent fixture in the Branding House. _That_ made a lot of sense. Keeping explosives in a building whose sole design was to get iron hot enough to melt human flesh. Yep, brilliant, that.

Good, Alex, he thought to himself as he moved through the night, sarcasm is good. Much better than- no, keep it together. Sarcasm is good.

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Wolf stepped jumped out of the stealth chopper that was behind him. The rest of K Unit followed. They moved out of the way as the blades slowly stopped, and then stood up. They were on the far reaches of the compound. They didn't dare get any closer for fear of arousing suspicion.

"What now?" Eagle asked.

"Now we wait for Alex's signal," Wolf replied in a dead calm.

"How will we know what that it?" Fox intruded.

Snake chuckled. "Have you ever known Alex to do anything small?"

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Alex glanced up as something moved silently through the night. He could just hear the faint whir of the blades. This constant state of pre-meditation he was holding was draining him, but it kept all his sense on high alert. It had been there for a moment, and then gone.

He remembered what Ed had said. '_My contact is going to be ready for anything you do_'. Was the SAS contact here? Waiting for something? And _who_ was the SAS contact? Why SAS and not MI6?

He almost tripped, but quickly righted himself. He had just another mile to go to the Main House. He had a pack on his shoulders laden with C4 and anything else he had found that would enlarge the explosion. He felt bad for the surrounding village. The fall out from this would be big, but he didn't dare stop long enough to actually care about it. He couldn't afford emotions right now. He had also managed to grab a plaid shirt, much too large for him, but better than nothing, a pack of matches, and a basic tool kit.

As he ran, he thought through the most likely security systems he would encounter. Most likely just basic robber alarms. The Yakuza had a pretty sweet set up out here. There was no one to challenge them. Their slaves were tightly locked away at night, and there were plenty of Guards around should even one escape. According to Sato, the slaves would turn on each other for a spec of food.

He was fairly confident in his assessment, which meant all he had to do was cut the power to the house. Again, easily done with the tools in his pack. The more difficult would be finding the outside power source.

There, he could see the house in front of him. Some of the lights were on, but Alex wasn't worried. He was completely focused on his mission now. He _would_ destroy the Yakuza cell. If it was the last thing he did, he'd made sure the likes of Sato were never seen again.

The main gate was easy enough to climb under. He waited, carefully listening for the sound of dogs, though he hadn't remembered hearing any. Slipping down the driveway, he made his way to the East of the house, following the power line that went into it.

Sure enough, tucked between the house and the garage was the power box. He set down the pack, feeling not some little relief at the loss of extra weight on his battered body, and quickly set to work. He opened it carefully, thankful when no alarms blared.

The inside was a bunch of wires. All of them looked old. He cursed. They were also all the same color. A dull, dusty gray. It was impossible to quickly figure out which one went where.

Thinking quickly, he reached into his jeans pocket and grabbed a small handful of the black powder he had stolen the other day. He threw it into the box. He moved his pack away, and then lit a match. He threw it toward the box, and dived out of the way, covering his eyes. There wasn't enough powder to do any serious damage, but the flash would burn out his night vision.

He heard the small bang and then every light in the house went out. He rolled to his feet and grabbed his pack. He had managed to cut the alarms, but he had also managed to announce his presence.

Cursing himself for not thinking it all the way through, he ran around the west side of the house. He smashed in the basement window and wriggled through. An adult wouldn't have fit through, as it was he managed to gather a few more gashes on his stomach. They weren't deep, but were already bleeding. Annoyed with himself once again, Alex brushed off any glass that had come off in his entry.

He'd already spotted his targets as his vision adjusted. The basement was lined with the old support beams that held up the main floor of the house. He quickly set his charges, but suddenly knew it wasn't going to be enough. In order for his plan to work, he had to neutralize every member of the Cell at the same time.

Shouldering the pack, he made his way up the stairs. He listened at the door for a moment, not hearing any activity on the other side, he slowly opened the door. Slipping though, he made his way into the main floor of the house.

He thought for a moment. Where would be the most effective location? He smiled. The kitchen. He moved off in the direction he thought it would be. Pushing through another door, he was surprised when he came on a wine cellar instead. Obviously his sense of direction wasn't what it used to be, but this would do.

He set the last of his charges all around. Hopefully, the alcohol would increase the explosion. Unfortunately, he had no choice but set them on a timer. The detonator only worked for the charges downstairs.

Taking a deep breath, Alex took a moment to realize what he was about to do. And then set the timer for ten minutes. He couldn't afford to think of what he was doing. This was his only way out, and the only way to free the other slaves.

He ran back the directly he came, but skidded to a halt. Three guards, Carl included, stood in front of him. He glanced at his watch. Seven minutes to go. Should he just run? No, they would probably shoot him down before he managed two steps. Sighing, he dropped his pack, thankful he had pocketed the detonator in the wine cellar.

"What the hell are you doing out?" Carl shouted, furious.

Alex shrugged. "There are a thousand ways to pick a lock."

"Get him," Carl ordered.

Alex immediately took up a karate stance as the other two guards rushed him. Obviously they didn't consider him much of a threat as one hung back. He swung out at Alex, who ducked and came up with a round house solid enough to knock the guard out. The second approached more carefully, his gun out in front of him.

Alex lashed out with a chop and paralyzed the man's wrist. The gun dropped to the ground, and he quickly followed up with a solid punch to the man's temple, dropping him instantly.

Carl snarled at him. Alex glanced at his watch. Three minutes. He didn't have time for this. He could feel himself tiring, and knew he didn't have another fight in him. Without thinking he dived for the downed guards gun just as Carl raised his and fired. The bullet missed him by an inch. He whipped up the handgun, taking the safety off in his upward motion, and fired.

He found his mark in Carl's wrist, forcing him to drop the gun. Alex threw his own away and ran. He could hear the man's cursing behind him, but didn't stop to pay attention. He was quickly running out of time.

He reached the front door and threw it open, still running. But even as he did, Alex knew he wasn't going to get far enough away fast enough. He got as far the main gate when the wine cellar blew, taking out half the house.

Alex was thrown to the ground by the force of the blast, but quickly rolled over and fetched the detonator from his pocket, pressing the button. The support beams each blew, raining fire laden debris on him. He covered his head with his arms.

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K Unit watched the explosion.

"That would be our signal," Wolf smirked, making the 'move in' motion with his hand.

The unit quickly made their way down to the burning remains of the main house. All of them had the same question their minds.

Had Alex managed to get out of the house before it blew?

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Alex lifted his head, using his shoulders to shrug off the debris collected on his back. He blinked at the raging inferno behind him. His back felt hot, and he could feel a few superficial burns, several new bruises, and he definitely recognized the signs of a mild concussion by now, but all in all, he had come out of it relatively unscathed.

He slowly pushed himself up, careful to test each bone. He was shaky, but nothing had been broken. His only real concern was that his ribs hurt like hell. He could barely draw a breath without coughing. He tasted blood in his mouth, but suspected he had bitten his tongue. He didn't want to think about the other possibility.

No one was running from the building. Whoever had been in it, was now dead. There were a few guards trying to put out the blaze, but most of them had already fled. Did that mean he could rest now? His eyes tried to close, but he forced them open, and then forced his stiff body to stand, swaying lightly. No. He couldn't. He'd only completed half his mission. He still had to free the others.

He felt around in his pocket to see how much powder was left. Barely a pinch, but it would do. Looking around, he spotted a jeep. He limped over to it. For once, things were going his way and the keys were dangling in the ignition. Someone had jumped out of it without thinking.

He climbed in, started it, and headed for the mines.

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K Unit arrived just in time to see Alex jump into a jeep and drive off at full speed. They'd found no resistance, which had surprised them.

Wolf considered, then headed for another jeep.

"Where are we going now?" Eagle asked impatiently. He had hoped for a little more action, but it looked like Alex had already taken care of any threats. He felt a little put out.

"We're going to follow Alex," Snake told him, as though it should be obvious.

"I'm starting to wonder if we're even needed here," Eagle grumbled as they drove off.

"Alex looked pretty done in. He's managed just fine so far, but somehow I doubt he's ready to find a way out of the country," Fox pointed out. "I think he's on his last legs."

Wolf scowled. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Our mission now is to get him home."

"And we are, of course, planning the assassination of one Alan Blunt, aren't we?" Eagle chipped in.

"I don't think we have to worry about that. The problem with creating an intelligent weapon is never knowing where it's going to decide to strike," Snake replied seriously.

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Alex stopped outside the Branding House. He could see firelight through the windows, and someone moving inside. Matt? He searched the inside of the jeep and found a handgun in the glove compartment. He checked to make sure it was loaded. He'd about had his fill of killing, but he wasn't prepared to sacrifice the mission to avoid it.

Armed, he went into the house. Matt was scurrying around, trying to pack his things. He barely looked up at Alex, took in the gun pointed at him, and nodded.

"So you're the one who did it, eh? I suspected as much. I knew Sato had bitten off more than he could chew this time," Matt declared with a chuckle.

"You're not going anywhere," Alex asserted. "I don't want to kill you, but I won't let you get away, either."

Matt shrugged. "I don't think you're going to kill anyone. If I'm right, and I usually am, you're about five seconds from collapsing. Then I'll just take your gun, and make sure you don't spoil any other plans."

Alex snarled. "Don't underestimate me. So far everyone who has is dead."

"I believe you. But we seem to have a problem, my boy. I'm not going to sit here and wait for whatever authorities you work for, and you are most definitely not up for a fight," Matt pointed out cheerfully.

To make his point, Matt started walking calmly toward Alex. He closed his eyes. There was no choice. This man took a sick pleasure in the work he did, and he wasn't stopped here, he would continue to hurt, kill and maim others.

"Please," Alex begged quietly. "Don't make me do this."

But Matt didn't stop. He was fully confident in his assessment of Alex. Alex cried out in rage, firing as he did so. Matt's expression never had a chance to change. He hit the floor, instantly dead from the bullet between his eyes, his face still showing that cocky confidence that had gotten him killed.

Moving quickly, Alex grabbed the keys and ran from the hut into the entrance of the tunnels. He came up against two more guards, but this time didn't hesitate. Both were dead before they could so much as register surprise at seeing him.

At last he reached the Cage. People were terrified, some crying, other shouting in anger. Most were silent when they saw him opening the door.

"You're free to go. I don't have a way out of Mahdia for you, but if you can find your way, your life is your own," Alex explained to the stunned people who hadn't yet moved.

His words seemed to kick in, and the people filed out quickly, eager to escape the hell they had been living. Alex had only been able to offer them a chance, but they would take it.

Bryan glanced at him on the way out, but said nothing.

He watched them go, turning back to the cell once. He was surprised to see Francois still lying on the floor. He dropped the gun and quickly ran over to him.

"Francois?"

"Alex. Mon ami. You have done a great thing," the old man wheezed, surprisingly, in halting English. Alex wanted to ask why their previous conversations had been in French, but didn't bother. He suspected it had made the old man feel better to speak his native tongue.

"We have to go," Alex whispered. "Can you stand?"

Francois shook his head, his breath rattling in his chest. Alex knew then, why the old man hadn't left. He was dying, and there was nothing that could be done about it.

"Leave me. I am happy."

"I can get you help," Alex pleaded desperately. This man had stood between him and insanity, and he wasn't going to let him die in this hell hole. "Just come with me."

"You're a good boy, Alex, but you're naïve. Let me go. Let me sleep."

Alex nodded, and sat, watching as the old man slipped into a sleep he would never wake from. He couldn't stop the tears from escaping, his shoulders shaking from the sobs. It felt like such a waste. For all that the old man had done for him, for that gentle kindness that had brought him back from the abyss, all he could offer in thanks was to let him slip away peacefully.

"Thank you, my friend," he whispered gently, pulling up the blanket that had covered him over his face.

"How very touching."

Alex froze as he heard the voice. No, it couldn't be. Surely Dexter would have left with the others? He should turn around, he knew. Take up a defensive position, but he couldn't. Three little words snarled at him had paralyzed him with fear. He wasn't even able to move when he heard the click of the gun he had stupidly tossed away.

"I had a good thing going here. You've ruined it!" Dexter snarled, reaching down and pulling Alex up against him, holding him tightly, his back to the massive chest. Alex felt the cool metal of the barrel against his temple.

Alex's brain screamed at him to move, to run, to do _something_, but he couldn't. His body had completely refused to obey any of the orders his mind was sending it. In retaliation, his mind conjured up every horrific vision of what had almost happened the previous night. He couldn't help but watch as they totally consumed any control he might have had. He was too exhausted to fight it, and lost himself in them.

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	5. Unfinished Business

CHAPTER 5- Unfinished Business.

Fox struggled through the outflow of dirty people. Alex had obviously let them loose. He ignored them, knowing the rest of K Unit were outside waiting to help them. His priority was to get to Alex.

Finally he seemed to break free, and came to a stop. He was totally unprepared for what he saw.

Inside the cage was a large man hold Alex very close to him with a gun pressed to the boys temple. But it was Alex's stillness that shocked him. He wasn't moving, his eyes were completely blank. It was as if the boy had shut down. He was trembling and his face was wet, as if he'd been crying, but other than that he might as well not exist.

The man holding the gun looked up when he caught sight of Fox. He snarled, pressing the gun harder into Alex.

"You best drop your gun, or I'll kill him." Dexter smiled then, and allowed his hand to suggestively roam Alex's body, pushing up under the semi ruined shirt Alex had managed to throw on. Alex closed his eyes and whimpered, but seemed incapable of doing more. "We have unfinished business, don't we, boy?"

Fox narrowed his eyes, unsure of what he was seeing, but not caring. The man had taken his attention away from the armed SAS member for the one second he needed. Without hesitating, Fox fired, hitting him square between the eyes.

As the man fell, so did the support he'd been providing for Alex. Fox rushed to catch him as he collapsed. He gently helped the boy down, holding him against himself, with Alex's head in the nook of his shoulder, and his back leaning against Fox's upraised knee.

"Alex?" Fox shook him gently, unsure of the extent of his injuries. He sighed in relief as the boy blinked at him.

"Fox?"

"Yeah, we're here. You did good, but it's over," Fox reassured, not liking the still semi vacant look in Alex's eyes.

Alex nodded, and promptly passed out, his head falling back limply.

Fox thought back on everything he had seen, and was beginning to wonder if the boy was simply exhausted, or severely traumatized. There was little doubt as to the big man's intentions. And why had Alex simply stood there? Like he had checked out. What was it the man had said? Unfinished business?

And all at once, Fox understood. "Ah, shit kid," he whispered gently. "You didn't need this. You don't deserve it."

He carefully picked the boy up, feeling angry with how light he was, and carried him out. He wasn't surprised when he was met at the entrance by K Unit. Wolf looked near panic when he saw Alex limp in Fox's arms, bruised and bloodied.

"He's still alive," Fox quickly reassured him. "For what it's worth," he muttered under his breath. Wolf hadn't heard him, having already turned back to the mission at hand, but Snake had, and he shot Fox an unreadable look.

Saying nothing, he turned to a boy Fox hadn't seen before. He appeared to be the same age as Alex, but there the resemblance ended. "Is there anywhere I can take a look at him?"

Bryan shook his head. "Nowhere. The others have already locked their doors in fear of the prisoners raiding their food supply, and from what I hear, Alex blew up the main house. There's a bed in the Branding House, but I don't think you should take him there."

Snake shrugged off the boy's warning and motioned for Fox to follow him. Bryan walked along silently behind.

The first thing that hit the men was the incredible heat in the house. The second was the dead body on the floor, a bullet between the man's eyes. The third body they had found since entering the tunnels.

Both men worried. How many kills had Alex made tonight? And what would the fall out be? But they shrugged it off. First they had to see how badly he'd been injured. They moved to a small back room. It wasn't so much a bed as a cot, but it would do.

Fox gently laid the boy down and stepped out of the way. He turned to the boy who had followed them as Snake took over, unbuttoning the ragged remains of Alex's shirt.

"What's your name?"

"Bryan, Sir."

"Do you know what happened?" Fox demanded.

Bryan hesitated, then sighed. "I know he's had a rough time of it. I'm not sure how he found the strength to do all this. But I knew he'd find a way to help us."

Fox was surprised. "He told you who he was?"

"No, he didn't have to. The shirt, he just got that tonight. I've seen his chest and back. You don't get scars like that playing it safe. He kept asking questions, looking for information. He was entirely too calm about the whole thing, at least until Dexter- I don't know _who_ he is, but I know _what_ he is, at least in general," Bryan replied honestly.

Fox frowned at the cutoff, but knew in some sense that this boy, who appeared quite calm, had been equally traumatized by his own experiences. He wanted desperately to grab him and shake some answers out of him, but instead merely nodded.

"Go get the other SAS, would you, Bryan?" Snake asked from his crouch. Bryan nodded and took off.

Fox could see the grim look on Snake's face, but didn't ask any question. Snake would report to his team leader, as he'd been trained. There was no sense making him repeat it. Besides, Fox felt like he needed a moment to digest what he already suspected before he heard more bad news.

Wolf and Eagle entered the cabin, immediately shutting the door.

"The pilot has radioed in. MI6 is sending backup squads to deal with these people, but we're not to leave until they get here," Eagle reported.

"How is he?" Wolf asked.

Snake shook his head. "He's been through hell. Massive bruising, cuts, scraps, superficial burns, at least three broken ribs, maybe more. He's got a knock on his left temple large enough for me to suspect a concussion, and his right shoulder is dislocated. Most of it happened hours before the explosion. I can also assume just on spec that he's dehydrated, completely exhausted, and suffering from malnutrition."

"So he's been beaten," Wolf deduced.

"Several times, at least. But I think what Fox has to tell us is more important," Snake confirmed, turning the man in question.

Fox swallowed. He wasn't sure he could actually force himself to say the words. "When I found him in the tunnel, he was being held prisoner by a man who seemed a little upset with Alex foiling everything."

"You killed him," Eagle guessed.

Fox nodded. "Too quickly, I think. Alex was completely different. It was almost like he wasn't there, like he'd shut down."

Snake nodded. "Shock. He's put his body through a lot for god only knows how long."

Fox shook his head. "There was more to it than that. It was like he was paralyzed with fear of this man. He couldn't move, couldn't even talk. And I think I know why."

He took a deep, shuddering breath. Damn, this was harder than he thought. It was a possibility all of them had been trained for. Sexual abuse was a favorite form of torture for terrorists. It worked the mind and the body at the same time. They had all been warned it was a very real threat when you've been captured. But he'd never thought he'd have to apply it to a fifteen year old boy.

"I think he's been raped. Or, at least one was attempted. The lunatic mentioned something about 'unfinished business' before I shot him. I think that was the altercation Ed wouldn't tell you about."

K Unit were silent. It wasn't a pleasant thought for any of them, but denying the possibility that it might have happened would only make matters worse for Cub.

"And you're sure the guy is dead?" Eagle asked, his face flushed red with anger.

"Yeah, sorry," Fox apologized, knowing that Eagle now wished he'd gotten a hold of the man himself.

"But that happened last night. Cub managed to bring down the entire cell since then, which means he must have been in full possession of his faculties," Snake pointed out.

Wolf grunted. "He had the mission to focus on. It wasn't until he saw sure everyone was safe that he passed out. We've all seen it before, soldiers being fine until the mission was accomplished, and then simply dropping dead."

"We have to make our report," Eagle stated. "We can't hide this. Alex will try, but MI6 needs to know _exactly_ what they sent him into."

Snake sighed. "There one more thing." He gently rolled Alex onto his side, pushing down the shirt sleeve so the others could see the black symbol branded into the boys shoulder. "It's been well cared for, but he'll always have it."

"Shit," Fox swore. Could this kid just never catch a break?

"Backup should be arriving in a few hours. Snake, get him onto the chopper and get him back on home soil," Wolf ordered, his face deadly calm.

"Wolf-"

"Now! Eagle, Fox and I will be fine here. Take that Bryan kid with you. MI6 will need to debrief him."

With that, the man left the hut, leaving the others to exchange glances.

"You_ know_ that's not good, right?" Eagle asked as Snake tenderly lifted the boy, careful to support his neck.

"He's doing what he agreed to do. No special treatment," Fox replied. "But yeah, someone's head is going to role for this."

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	6. Finding Home

CHAPTER 6- Finding Home.

**AN:** Still with me? Wow. I'm impressed.

And I thought I explained before that these are naturally progressing characters? Of _course_ they're going to be different from when all this started. Remember that little speech at the beginning about experiences maturing? Maintain the reality of the characters by allowing them to evolve?

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Alex opened his eyes slowly. They felt heavy, sluggish, like he'd been drugged. It took a moment for him to realize he was in his own bedroom. He lifted his arm, and was surprised to see an IV in it. What was going on? He felt like he was half in the hospital, half out. There were no monitors, no sterile walls, but there were posts with bags running IV lines to his arm.

Then he looked over to his desk, and somehow wasn't surprised to see Wolf sitting there, looking deep in thought, but obviously aware Alex was awake.

"How long?" Alex croaked. His voice was hoarse from lack of water and use.

Wolf poured a glass of water from a pitcher that had been sitting on the desk as though waiting for him to wake up. Alex realized that was probably exactly why it was there.

"Can you sit up?"

Alex tried, but winced and shook his head. Now that his brain was working, he discovered how sore and stiff his body was. There was a tight bandage wrapped around his ribs and a cold pack on his dislocated shoulder. Lifting his hand, he realized there was also a bandage around his head. He felt uncomfortable, but judged he was probably on enough drugs to keep the major pain away unless he tried something stupid. Like sitting up.

Wolf patiently helped him take a couple of sips, pressing for one more after Alex tried to push it away after only two, and then set the glass down. "You've been out for about a week, but a lot of that was sedatives."

"Why here?"

"You were having some pretty wicked nightmares. You terrified just about every nurse and patient on the floor of the hospital, so MI6 set you up here. Quinn knows enough to monitor your IV lines, and there's a Doc that comes by every morning and night to check on you," Wolf explained.

Alex smirked. "In other words I was screaming out company secrets."

Wolf chuckled lightly. "Yeah, basically."

"The others?" Alex asked, concerned.

"Everyone is being cared for. Most chose to stay in Guyana. Bryan Thompkins is back with his father and receiving therapy. His father sent you a very pretty cheque, by the way. Along with a new car. You rescued three hundred and twenty people. Only fifteen have died since then. They were beyond help, unfortunately."

Alex nodded and relaxed, closing his eyes. "How long until MI6 get here to debrief me?"

Wolf shifted uncomfortably. "They aren't coming. Bryan filled them in on whatever he could. He handled himself fairly well, actually. I'm impressed."

"But they don't know what happened before I got to Mahdia. They'll want to know," Alex pointed out.

Wolf shook his head. "Alex, there's something you need to know about MI6, and you're not going to be happy with it."

Alex sighed. "I know. Mr. Blunt was the one who leaked my information to Sato." He opened his eyes to find Wolf staring at him in surprise. He couldn't help it, and smirked.

"What? It's not like it was hard to figure out. I _am_ a spy, you know. Finding out that sort of thing is what I _do_."

Wolf nodded sadly. "Well, your Doctor has put his foot down as well. MI6 isn't to attempt to even see you without a therapist present. He's afraid having to relive the events could send you into shock again."

Alex snorted. "I'm fine. I'd really rather just get it over and done with."

Wolf growled. "You are _not_ fine, and don't even try to tell me you are. Your nightmares painted a pretty clear picture of what happened, Alex. You broke a Doctor's nose when he tried to touch you. That's why you were sedated."

Alex remained silent. He had no snappy come back to give. He could feel the events of the past weeks sitting quietly in his mind, waiting to have their chance of freedom again.

Wolf continued. "And to be honest, what worries me more is what you're _not_ expressing. Fox isn't stupid, Alex. He knows what kind of reaction he walked in on, and he knows what probably caused it. I know you. You can't deal with it, so you've locked it away so tightly no one will ever find it. But what you're going to find is that someday it's going to hijack you in the wrong place, at the wrong time. You're not a child anymore. You've been trained as a weapon and that's what you've become. You could kill someone."

Alex snarled, automatically protecting what he knew was a delicate psyche. Wolf was hitting way too close to home. "You're not going parental on me, are you? Careful, you might start to sound like you care." The words had been thrown and marked to hurt. K Unit had done a lot for him, but he couldn't afford to have them close to him. And Alex knew he was an excellent marksman.

Wolf sighed and stood. "Like I said, Alex. A weapon."

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Quinn looked up as Wolf came down the stairs. "How is he?"

"He's awake."

K Unit took in the expression on their leader's face and frowned. "What happened?" Eagle asked.

"Alex is protecting himself, and using everything in his rather extensive arsenal to do it," Wolf answered. "He's damaged, but doesn't believe he's worth fixing."

Quinn nodded. "Actually, I'm pretty sure he thinks he's protecting us."

"That's the second time you've said that, and I'll repeat my answer. We don't bloody need him to protect us!" Wolf snarled in frustration.

"Think about it this way. You've lost everything, and everyone, you ever cared about. You've been forced into a life you never wanted. Every adult you've known has used, abused, manipulated and threatened you. The one person you thought you could count on through anything suddenly abandons you. Next thing you know, you've got four men who don't have a clue what to do with you. They can't be parental because you won't let them. They can't be team mates because despite appearances, you _are_ still a child. Sure, they respect you for what you've done, for what you're capable of, but none of them ever would have set foot in your life without your job forcing you together. You're afraid to let them have any real relationship with you because you're deeply afraid that they'll leave you too when they find out how dangerous you are to be around. It doesn't matter that they _think_ they can protect themselves. They don't understand how dangerous your line of work is. They aren't invincible and can't protect themselves from a bullet through the glass, or in the back. Now that's just your _life_. On top of all that, you also have to deal with all the shit that happens to you while you're working. And you have to do it alone, because you can't trust yourself to still protect them from your big bad world if you give in for even a moment to the reassurance you so desperately crave. And through it all, you go to bed every night wishing that the monsters under your bed weren't actually real." Snake slammed down his glass as he finished.

"Quinn-"

"No! I've had it! _We_ took in this boy. It was _our_ choice, no one _forced_ us to do it. We took in a fifteen year old boy who knows more than he should about the big bad world out there. My point, he is _still_ a child! No matter how impressive, brave or stubborn he might be, _that_ is the underlining fact here. I know what it's like to grow up with those fears, with that desperate craving to be _loved_, by anyone, and yet so very afraid of it at the same time. We've been pussy footing around, half treating him like a child, half treating him like a member of the team. He's both, and it's a fact that _all_ of you had better reconcile. Either we're going to do this right and provide him with a family, no matter how challenging that _will_ be, or we might as well ship him off to MI6 and let _them_ adopt him. I won't do this half assed! To hell with all your macho imagery, and I'll tell him the same thing! No matter how you view him, he's still a _human being_ with basic human needs. Touch, security, food and shelter. If we can't provide him with those, then he's better off somewhere where at least he _knows_ he's being used!"

Snake stalked up the stairs to Alex's room, leaving the three men stunned.

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Snake took a deep breath before entering the room. He hadn't meant to blow up at his friends, but there had been some facts that needed to be laid out.

He slipped in, and noticed Alex was sitting up, his knees held tightly to his chest, his forehead touching the top of his knees. Snake guessed from the quaking shoulders that Alex was either crying, or in a lot pain. Sadly, he suspected it was a great deal of both.

He sat on the bed gently. "You heard, huh?"

Alex sniffled, lifted his head, and viciously wiped away his tears. "It's funny how you managed to sum up my entire life in one long winded speech."

Snake sighed. "I didn't mean to be yelling, Alex, I'm sorry."

Alex shrugged, pulling up every ounce of attitude he could. Unfortunately, it was rather ruined by the sniffle that followed. "Are you-" his voice cracked dangerously. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Are you really going to send me back to MI6?"

"No, Alex, we're not. It's just time that we _all_ face a few facts. You might be the nations top secret weapon, but you're still young, still need to be cared for. You need to learn to trust us, but first you have to be able to define our presence in your life."

Alex nodded, and ducked his head, sniffling again. "I can't." His voice broke into a sob as his tears started again. "I can't _do_ this anymore."

Without hesitating Quinn pulled the boy into a hug, heedless of the pain he was probably causing. He was a little surprised when the boy clung to him tightly, but didn't let go. Alex needed this. After all he had suffered through, a simple hug didn't seem like such a hard thing to give. Alex sobbed out the terror that last year of his life had been, sobbed out the uncertainty of his place, his lack of control over even the smallest aspect of his life.

Quinn closed his eyes. The boy's wordless outpouring had been a long time coming, he knew. And there would be more. No one went through hell and came out whole. It just wasn't possible.

But this was a very important first step. Alex had let down his guard, even just for a moment, and allowed a little healing to take place. The foundations of a bridge that they could build on were being formed.

"You don't have to hold on so tightly, Alex," Quinn whispered gently. "I know what you've been taught, but there's no shame in tears. No shame in asking for help. Every once in a while, it's okay to share the burden."

He felt Alex shake his head against his shoulder, and smiled. "We know it's going to take time. Nothing happens over night. It's not going to be easy, either. One day at a time, okay?"

He held the boy until his sobs had been reduced to hiccups. He wasn't surprised when Alex's tear soaked face flushed red as he pulled back.

"I'm sorry," Alex started, but Quinn shook his head.

"Don't apologize. You'll undo all that work we've just done. Look, Alex, I was serious about what I said. Either we're going to do this right and be a family, or you're better off somewhere else. But that means _you_ have to try, too. _You_ have to make that choice."

"I want to try. I just don't know if I can." Alex explained.

"Well, that's a start, anyway. Like I said, one day at a time. In the meantime, how're you feeling?"

Alex sighed. "Tired." An understatement. He felt completely and utterly drained, but it had been cathartic, though definitely embarrassing. For both of them, he was sure.

Quinn check the IV lines and the bandages, and then help Alex lie down again. "Dr. Fitz will be here in a few hours. Get some sleep."

Alex closed his eyes, and was almost immediately asleep. Quinn left the room and found Wolf sitting against the wall in the hallway.

"How come you're so good at this?" Wolf asked.

Quinn smiled. "It's easy, actually. I just remember everything I grew up without, and multiply it tenfold. Come on, Daniel, get up off the floor."

Wolf took the extended hand and pulled himself up. They walked quietly downstairs to find Fox and Eagle looking very sheepishly at each other.

"Did you tuck him in alright?" Eagle asked, grinning.

Wolf glared at him. "Aren't you due back on duty soon?"

Fox snickered. "Nope. We officially have babysitting duty for a few weeks, just until MI6 is convinced the Yakuza aren't going to make any retaliation."

"I don't think Cub needs four babysitters," Snake pointed out.

"Actually, we're babysitting Wolf-man here. MI6 is concerned he might do something 'overly paternal'," Fox replied. "Like say, oh I don't know, put a bullet square between a certain someone's eyes."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't," Wolf growled dangerously.

Fox shrugged. "Sorry, can't. Not part of my job. We're just supposed to make sure you don't actually _do_ it."

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	7. Decisions

CHAPTER 7- Decisions.

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Alex slowly stretched as he stood in front of the coffee machine. A week of being laid up in bed had been utterly boring, though he had managed to catch up on his coursework. He did a careful self evaluation as he moved. His ribs and shoulder were still tender, but healing, his bruises had almost all faded away to a light yellow-greenish color. The cuts on his stomach from breaking into the basement in Mahdia were almost completely scarred over. Other than that, he mostly just stiff.

All in all, not a bad day. It was his first day up and out of bed, and it was still extremely early in the morning. He knew he'd be in trouble if one of the others caught him- Dr. Fitz had wanted him to rest for at least another few days- but couldn't muster the energy to care.

Last night had been the first time he'd been allowed to sleep on his own, without the help of sedatives. It had also become very clear that the sedatives were the only thing keeping his nightmares away. As his level of sedative had been reduced, the number of nightmares had increased, along with their severity. He'd had a bad one last night, but had _just_ managed not to wake up screaming. As a result, he was standing in front of an altogether far too slow coffee machine at six am.

He listened to the sounds of the house. There was a drip in the bathroom, and he could hear either Snake or Wolf snoring. Frowning, he corrected himself. Quinn or Daniel. If he was going to make the effort Quinn had asked of him, then he needed to start by thinking of the two men by their real names, not the codenames the military had given them.

He sighed. Last week it had seemed so easy to be honest with Quinn. His breakdown had deeply embarrassed them both, but it had been needed. It had been good, even if just for a moment, to be cared for, to be held.

But now it seemed he was right back where he started. He knew the men could hear him at night, whimpering in his sleep. A few times we'd woken up retching, but had firmly closed them out.

Quinn was disappointed in him, he could tell. But he didn't know how to fix it. It was his nature to be private. It always had been. MI6 had just made it worse. He didn't know how to let his caretakers into his psyche, and he honestly wasn't sure he wanted to. It was a dark place, of late, and he couldn't stand the thought of being less in K Unit's eyes.

"You know coffee isn't exactly on Doc Fitz's approved list," Wolf stated from the doorway of the kitchen. Alex froze, momentarily, but relaxed. That, too, had become a problem. He near jumped out of his skin every time someone snuck up on him.

"Doc Fitz isn't here," Alex replied, silently urging the machine to hurry up.

"He will be in a few hours," Wolf pointed out, settling himself at the table. He knew why Alex was up. He'd heard the muffled cries when Alex woke up.

Alex shot him a look. "Are you going to tattle on me?"

Wolf grinned. "Nah, it'll be a lot more fun watching him blow a fuse when he finds out you're out of bed."

Alex grunted, but didn't bother to reply. The last drip finally went through, and he immediately poured himself a mug, and without asking, poured one for his guardian. He put them both on the table and settled in.

"So why are you up so early?" Alex asked casually, wondering if K Unit had taken to keeping watch over him, as they had done in past.

"You weren't quite as quiet as you would like to think. Was it bad?" Wolf asked.

Alex shrugged. "I'm fine." To his credit, he could very well have denied knowing what Daniel was talking about, but decided not to. It would demean them both.

"New rule," Wolf snapped harshly. "I never, _ever_ want to hear those two words out of your mouth again."

Alex frowned, sensing the man's irritation, but not fully understanding it. A moment ago, he had thought he'd done well, but he'd obviously managed to upset the man somehow. Wolf must have seen his expression, because he sighed.

"Do you realize the only time you say 'I'm fine' is when you're the furthest thing from it? The only one you're fooling, Alex, is yourself. Quinn said we had to make a go at this, so how about we make a rule not to lie to each other?"

Alex narrowed his eyes. "How about no one asking me questions I'm not prepared to answer?"

"Alex-"

"No, listen. I'm sorry I'm not very good at this whole family thing. I know you and Quinn want to do right by me, and believe me, I appreciate it, but you guys need to back off a little. I can only deal with so much, and having to try and live up to your expectations of what _you_ think our little family should consist of is more than I can handle at the moment," Alex replied seriously.

Wolf thought for a moment, then leaned forward. "How about a compromise?"

Alex hesitated, sensing he was being led into a trap, but he nodded. "I'm listening."

"Quinn and I have to trust that you'll come to us if you need us. You have to trust us to be able to handle it. That trust is going to take time to build, on both sides. How about if from now on, if we ask, you'll do your best to answer, but if you _really_ can't, then let us know and we'll drop it. It's not much, but it's a start," Wolf proposed.

Alex thought about it. It was a good way to build their relationship. It would require a small amount of trust of both sides, one to be honest, the other to let it go, but no great leaps of faith. As far as building blocks went, it wasn't a half bad idea.

Wolf sensed his hesitation. "If it helps, I didn't just think that up all on my own. When I got into SAS, there was a lot I couldn't tell my family. They'd demand to know why I had disappeared for so long, or suddenly turned up hurt. We developed that system over time. I told them what I could, and they learned not to ask for more."

Alex nodded. "Alright, it sounds fair. Are your parents still alive?"

Wolf relaxed. "My mother is. She lives in Cornwall. She's looking forward to meeting you, when you feel up to it."

Alex looked up, completely shocked. "She _knows_?"

Wolf laughed. "I couldn't exactly go and do something like adopting a fifteen year old boy without telling her. Who do you think witnessed your adoption papers?"

Alex shook his head. He hadn't really thought of anything like that. He had never thought of K Unit actually having living family. He wasn't sure why, it just wasn't something that had occurred to him.

Wolf, too, seemed to realize his omission. "I also have a sister and a brother in law. Unfortunately, you're about the only grandchild my mother thinks she'll ever get. She doesn't have high hopes of me settling down to marry, and my sister can't have children."

"Have you had a chance to visit with her, since you got saddled with me?" Alex asked. Without waiting for a reply, he shook his head. "No, you couldn't have. You haven't left me alone long enough. You should go visit."

"First off, brat, I didn't get 'saddled' with you, I chose this, and second, she understands you've been under the weather. Not why, of course. You should probably understand something. Family means a lot to both Quinn and I. Him because he never had one, and me because I _did_. Like it or not, you're a part of that now." Wolf paused, grunting. "Besides which, my mother would have my head if I went to visit her without you in tow."

Alex sighed. And here they were, into the honesty thing again. "It's not that I don't like it, Daniel, it's that I don't know what to do with it."

Wolf shrugged. "Trust me, it won't be an issue. She sort of adopted K Unit a while back. She won't ask what you don't tell her." He laughed. "You should have seen Ben's face the first time she cuffed him for daring to drink out of the carton in her house."

Alex took a deep breath. It felt like an overload of information, and he'd been telling the truth. He really wasn't sure how to handle it. In fact, he thought, closing his eyes, he _couldn't_ deal with it. Not right now, not on top of everything else. He was feeling dizzy.

He hadn't given any particular thought to actually being adopted. He had tended to think of it like Jack's Guardianship of him. He got her, but her parents were her own. He'd never met them. Finding out that he'd just inherited an extended family felt like he'd had a bomb dropped on him. Not only inherited, but was expected to participate in.

He startled when he felt Wolf's hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fi- No, actually, I'm not. I think I'm going to go back to bed for a while," Alex replied.

Wolf smiled. "Nice catch."

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Quinn frowned as Dr. Fitz came storming out of Alex's room. Curious, he followed the man downstairs. He'd learned that since it wasn't actually his name on the adoption papers, Daniel was the only one he would talk to. However, he wasn't adverse to talking to Wolf while Snake was in the room.

"He was out of bed!" Dr. Fitz blustered, as soon as he rounded the corner of the kitchen. "And his breath smells like coffee!"

Wolf sighed. Okay, so he hadn't exactly thought it through earlier when he'd said it would be fun to watch this. He'd forgotten that _he_ was the one the Doc was going to blow up at.

"He was only up for about a half hour. I swear, all we did was sit here and talk." Fitz glared. "Okay, and he had one cup of coffee, which he didn't finish!"

"I specifically gave you an approved meal and beverage list! Didn't you even look at it?"

Wolf frowned. "How's Alex?"

He wanted to know first. This man had been _his_ Doctor for nearly ten years. It was why they had allowed him in the house, and Wolf knew by experience that the man tended to get over paranoid and a little over protective of his patients. Especially him. Fitz generally just doubled the recoup time simply because he knew Wolf would only use half of whatever time he allotted. Had he done the same with Alex, or was something genuinely wrong?

Fitz sighed. "He's doing well. Everything is healing nicely. My only concern is his lack of weight gain and his overall sense of exhaustion. His nightmares are back, aren't they?"

Wolf nodded. "That's why he was up this morning. And he doesn't eat much. Never has, from how long I've known him."

"Small excursions around the house will do him some good, build up some of his lean muscle, but nothing over an hour, do you understand? As for his eating habits, I'm afraid you're going to have to push him. He really does need to gain some weight back. If you must, bribe him with coffee. For each full meal he eats, he can have one."

Quinn grinned. "That should do it."

"Now, his nightmares. He needs to sleep. I can put him back on sedatives, but I think that's only delaying the inevitable. I want to bring in a therapist. Hear me out!" Fitz held his hand up, stopping Wolf before he'd had a chance to do more than open his mouth. "I have one in mind. She's a good friend of mine, and is used to dealing with troubled youth. Alex has thrown up a firm barrier of protection around himself, and I don't know too many shrinks who can get around it, but she can."

"What about security clearance?" Quinn asked.

"I'll get it for her. I honestly believe she's the best thing for Alex."

"Alex doesn't do well with shrinks," Quinn warned.

Fitz snorted. "No one does, Quinn. Not at first. Elise has all the patience in the world for the crap that boy is throwing out. Myself, I'm ready to strangle him and get it over with. She'll be in contact soon."

Fitz stood up to leave, but then turned back. "Are you able to talk to your counselors about Alex? Suddenly being parents can be a hard adjustment."

Wolf smiled, knowing the old man really did care. "All of K Unit have their own, and while I can't speak for the others, I know I've made good use of mine."

Fitz nodded sharply. "Right then. Quinn, since you're off duty for a while, I want you to come in tomorrow and put in some time updating your medic training."

Quinn nodded happily, and saw the man out. He liked Fitz. He always had. The moment he'd discovered Snake was the K Unit field medic, he'd done his best to make sure Quinn got as much training as he could. SAS made him update annually, but Fitz had a way of making sure he knew about the more unusual circumstances that could happen in the field, having once been a service man himself.

Coming back to the kitchen, he saw Wolf starting the makings of breakfast.

"So, Alex had a nightmare? Don't suppose he talked about it?" Quinn asked.

Wolf chuckled. "You'd suppose right. But we did manage to come to an agreement. You know that unspoken law my mother lives by when we're around? Alex has agreed to it."

"Well, it's not ideal, but it'll have to do. So, you told him about your mother?"

"Yeah. I probably should have done it sooner, in hindsight. He was a bit overwhelmed. She wants to see him, though. And the rest of K Unit. We haven't been up for a visit for a long time," Wolf replied.

Quinn grinned. "Well, maybe we should plan to visit soon. If anything will bring back Alex's appetite, it'd be her homemade brownies and ice cream."

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One week later, Alex was alone in the house for the first time in a long time. Both his caretakers had been called to work, and wouldn't be back until the end of the weekend. Two whole days by himself. He welcomed the respite.

Their agreement was working out fine. He was positive Daniel had purposely asked some tough questions just to prove that both he and Quinn could be trusted to drop it. He was even holding up his end, and being as honest as he could when he told them in no uncertain terms to muck off.

But they had managed to come to terms with living together. Alex knew he still got tired easily, and as such wasn't up for much strenuous activity, but they had settled into a kind of routine that seemed to work for all of them.

Fitz's solution of bribing him with coffee had even worked in getting him to eat more, though he'd discovered that it just meant he had more to bring up at night. Even his nightmares seemed to edge off a little. They were worse in ferocity than they'd even been, but at least they were dying off in frequency. It was a tradeoff he felt he could live with.

He'd learned to live with the flashbacks. The only one he couldn't seem to get a handle on was whenever the flashback involved Dexter. And it seemed every little thing set one off. Alex had nearly broken Quinn's arm one day for coming up behind him and putting a hand on his shoulder. Since then, both men had been very careful to make sure Alex could see they were coming before they touched him.

He hated being coddled like that, but he didn't want to hurt them, so he accepted that was the way it had to be. He remembered his conversation with Wolf vividly. A weapon, they had called him, and it was proving to be true. He was desperately afraid to return to school in case someone bumped into him in the halls.

MI6 hadn't contacted him yet, though he suspected he knew why. He was useless in his current condition. A liability more than an asset. He _had_ to find a way to get over this. Knowing he had these days to himself, Alex had made a plan.

He'd pushed back all the furniture in the living room this morning. He was now standing in the middle of the living room, completely still. He'd made a CD of every word that seemed to trigger his flashbacks of Dexter, which was now waiting for him to press play.

He took a deep breath. The only way he was ever going to be useful again was to work through it, so that was exactly what he was planning on doing. He pressed play on the machine. The first few words instantly brought up those images. He froze, once again paralyzed by fear, but then forced himself into a karate stance. Slowly at first, then faster as the images bombarded him, Alex worked through his Katas, the movements jerky and vicious, but at least he was moving.

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Elise stood in the doorway of the living room, watching the shirtless boy in front of her. He wasn't aware of her presence, and was instead intensely focused. She could hear the words being repeated over and over on the CD, and had quickly guessed what the boy was trying to do.

Sweat poured off his scarred body, so he had obviously been at it for some time. He was quite skilled. There was a hard earned grace in those movements, and it seemed a dance of sorts. But there was also a deadly edge that left no doubt in her mind what he was capable of.

She wondered how he would react to her being here. She had tried knocking, but no one had answered. The door was unlocked, though, so she'd let herself in. And now she wasn't sure what to do. Should she announce her presence and put an end to what he had obviously worked hard for, or accept that this was the best method to get through to him?

She looked down at herself. Today was Saturday, and she had been at the gym. She was still dressed for it. In her experience, people tended to relate to her better when seeing she was human too, and not just another name on a fancy piece of paper and a nice outfit.

She decided, and moved up beside him, giving them both lots of work, and started following him. She was an adept black belt, so she knew the movements, even if she couldn't pull them off with the grace and skill he could.

He didn't react to her at all, and for two hours they worked through the exercises together. Then, without warning, he turned on her, lashing out. She blocked quickly, and lashed back with a roundhouse that was easily blocked.

And that was that. They sparred for another half hour, neither one actually landing a hit, though it was everything she could do to keep up with his natural speed and flow. Finally, Alex collapsed, exhausted, dragging in a ragged breath. She moved over to turn off the CD player, and watched as he remained crouched on the floor, panting, his muscles trembling with overexertion.

"You're very good, you know," she said at last.

"You must be Elise."

"Did it help? Or do you generally just torture yourself for the fun of it?" Elise asked, as though she were genuinely curious.

"Actually, it did help. You're not so bad yourself," Alex chuckled. And it _had_ helped. He had worked through the images, and while they hadn't lessened, their hold over him had. He glanced at the clock. He'd being working out all day. He'd started at nine am, and it was now six pm. He had been aware of her for some time, forcing his mind to be alert to everything else going on around him despite it wanting to focus inward.

He smiled, still panting. "Actually, _you_ helped."

Elise seemed surprised. "You knew I was here?"

"The moment you knocked on the door."

"Why didn't you say something?"

Alex shrugged. "It suited me not to. Isn't our hour long up?"

Elise laughed. "Actually, that was the most invigorating work out I've had in a long time. I don't think I'll bill for that time. Though, if you wouldn't mind, I could use a shower."

Surprised, Alex nodded and pointed to the stairs. He watched as she went up. She wasn't acting like any shrink he'd ever seen. She was young, perhaps just over thirty, and currently dressed in track pants and a sports tank top. She wasn't extraordinarily pretty, but nor was she plain. Her long brown hair had been tied in a ponytail. She had the lean, muscled figure of someone very athletic, and he had to admit, she had kept up with him for long enough. He hadn't been gentle in his attacks. He'd wanted her to know exactly what she was up against.

Grimacing, he realized he was in need of a shower too. He'd pushed himself hard today, and while he was sure Wolf, Snake and Doc Fitz would kill him if they found out, he felt he'd made a lot of progress.

He was sore, his ribs were screaming at him, and his muscles had turned to jelly, but he felt better than he had in a long time.

He heard Elise come out of the bathroom, and headed upstairs himself. Without saying a word, they passed each in the bathroom door, as though they'd lived together for years.

Once he was clean, and dressed, he found her in the kitchen cooking dinner. Frowning, he sat at the table. She glanced at him.

"I hope you don't mind. A workout like that tends to give me an appetite. You must be starving yourself."

Alex shrugged. "I could eat," he admitted, though he wouldn't exactly have described it as starving. Besides, whatever she was cooking smelled better than whatever he'd have ended up throwing together, if he'd bothered at all.

"Well, I'm supposed to be shrinking you, so let's start with the basics. My security clearance is high enough to hear anything you have to say, and I've read all your mission files," Elise listed. "You've certainly been busy over the last year. I have a niece that goes to a boarding school here, and I have you to thank that she's still alive. Thank you."

Alex blushed. In his line of work, thanks didn't generally come with the territory, but it helped reaffirm that what he was doing was for the right reasons. "You're welcome, I guess."

She smiled. "It's not easy, being thanked for something you never wanted to get involved with in the first place, is it?"

"Thankfully, it's not an issue that comes up very often," Alex responded.

"While you're sitting there, would you mind peeling some potatoes?" Elise put the bag on the table. "Two or three should do it, I think."

Alex nodded and immediately started doing as he was asked. "You're not a normal shrink, are you?"

Elise laughed. "No, thank goodness. I hated them when I had to go. My parents died when I was eight in a house fire. I survived only because I'd been at a friends house that night. By the time I'd been through three shrinks, I had developed the habit of punching just about any old man with glasses and a kind look on his face."

He chuckled. "That's a surprisingly honest answer."

"How can I expect you to trust me if I avoid talking about myself? My grandmother used to tell me that conversations had to be two sided, otherwise you were only talking to yourself and looking a fool doing it."

"So if you hated them so much, why did you become one?" Alex inquired.

"I got into some trouble when I was young. A rebellion of sorts, I suppose. It took a long time for me to realize that I really did have some problems. Then one night I was arrested for drinking underage. The cop sat me down, and said, 'You're being stupid for no other reason than to be stupid. If you think it's going to fly in the real world, you've got another thing coming'. He wasn't gentle about it, either, but it got me thinking."

Alex smirked. "A brain smack, so to speak?"

Elise chuckled. "Yeah, something like that. Once I started to think about what my place in the 'real world' would be, I got some help. The right kind, this time. After that, it only seemed perfectly natural to pass along my hard earned wisdom."

She collected the potatoes he had peeled and cut them up, throwing them into a pot. She put the lid on and sat at the table with him. She sighed.

"Your situation is entirely different, however. You've seen true evil, Alex, and to be honest, I don't have a lot of experience with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I saw today that you have your own way of dealing with it, but I also suspect that you won't stop to think about your overall health much while you do it. You've seen too much to ever be a child again, but you're too young to be an adult. I'm not sure where we go from here."

Alex nodded. He wasn't sure either. He got the feeling that no matter what he did, he wasn't going to be able to frighten her away, or get her angry with him, as he had the others. To be honest, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to. She was open and honest with him a way few adults in his life had been. She hadn't yet asked anything he couldn't answer, and seemed willing to let him continue doing things his own way.

Overall, he was impressed. He didn't feel pressured into talking. In fact, he felt quite comfortable with her. He wasn't ready to bare his soul to her, but he was ready to give her a chance. Maybe even a helping hand.

"What do you know about adoption?" he asked.

Surprised, Elise scrunched up her face as she thought. "I know the legalities of it, I've helped with enough of them, but somehow I don't think that's what you're asking about. Do you want to be a little more specific?"

"Daniel told me last week his mother was still alive, and is intent on treating me like a grandchild. I'm not sure how to handle it," Alex explained.

"Oh. Well, do you _want_ to be a part of her life? I mean, on paper, you _are_ Daniel's son. Adoption isn't just a take over of custody, Alex. When Daniel signed those papers, it was a pledge of sorts to give you a family, and to make you a part of his. Think about it, if you were just a baby, then you'd have grown up with her as your grandmother, and probably never thought anything of it."

Alex smiled. It was a good point. "Thank you."

"At the risk of sounding all shrink-like, I think you seem to have a problem realizing a very fundamental part of life. Love isn't like trust or respect. It doesn't have to be earned, Alex. It's one of the last free things in life, and brings with it a wealth beyond imagining. Don't throw it away if it's being offered. Sometimes just accepting it can be one the hardest, most painful things you'll ever do, but it will also be one of the most rewarding."

"You're right, you _do_ sound like a shrink," Alex chuckled.

"Brat. We're about ready to eat, then I have to go. Same workout on Monday?" Elise asked, rising to dish out the stew she had made.

Alex shook his head. "Daniel and Quinn will be back, and Dr. Fitz would have a conniption if he found out what I'd done today."

Elise smiled. "Actually, one of the nice things about being a head doctor is that as long as you're not risking your immediate health, I outrank him. Just make sure you take tomorrow to rest, or you'll be back in his hands. Muscles need time to rest too."

Alex nodded. "Alright then, Monday."

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	8. Standing Up

CHAPTER 8- Standing Up.

AN: I'm sorry, I _am_ trying to keep an eye on the length of the chapters, but sometimes they get away from me. As for any complaining about the Mushiness, I've said it before, I'll say it again. I write because it amuses me to do so, and as such, I'll write my way. And no, I haven't even posted the first chapter yet, as I'm still writing. I'm just psychic like that, lol.

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Elise knocked, but didn't bother to wait for an answer. She walked in and wasn't surprised to be reliving a sense of déjà vu. Alex was once again in the middle of the living room, sweating heavily and viciously working through his forms. The same CD was playing in the background.

But there was something different, today. There was an edge to Alex that she hadn't expected. He seemed to be pushing through some deep exhaustion that he couldn't seem to shake.

Sighing, she put down her bag and took off her jacket. "Hello, Alex," she greeted. She wasn't expecting a response, and immediately moved to join him, matching her rhythm to his. But this time she knew he was aware of her.

"I want to try something different today. I know on Saturday you were working on your alertness. How about we switch things up today? I'm going to pick five sounds around the house, and I want you to attack me each time you hear one."

Alex continued working, seemingly totally focused, but she knew he'd heard her. "Sound one: A car driving by. Sound two: The refrigerator kicking in. Sound three: The sound of a human voice, not playing on the CD player. Sound four: A door slamming. Sound five: any kind of music from any location. Five attacks, then release."

They worked like that for hours, Alex confirming he'd heard her instructions several times. For every sound she'd mentioned, he'd try to attack her five times, release her and slip smoothly back into his forms. It was hard keeping up with him. Each time he attacked, he did so more quickly than the last. And he did it all without seeming to lose his inner focus or rhythm. She winced as he'd landed a roundhouse, but didn't comment. It hurt, but she could see the power in him. He'd pulled it, and she knew it.

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Quinn and Wolf both entered the house talking, but stopped. Wolf's jaw nearly dropped.

He hadn't know what he was expecting to walk into, but it certainly wasn't to see Alex and a woman sparring in the middle of the living room. They both moved with a speed and agility Wolf hadn't known Alex was capable of. He'd never really given it any thought when Alex had told him he was a first grade Dan, but had to admit he was having a hard time keeping track of which limb belonged to whom. They seemed to meld together in a blur.

Both were covered in sweat, and had obviously been at it for some time. He could hear words being repeated on a CD, but they were individualized, and didn't make any sense.

The woman looked over at them, and the move cost her a blow to the side.

"Dame Tomodachi," she called. Alex stopped his attack immediately.

And lost the momentum that had been carrying him for the past several hours. He collapsed to his knees, his palms pressing down on the tops, his head down as he gasped for breath. He was shaking with the efforts of the day, but was pleased to see Elise had dropped to lie down on the floor next to him, also trying to catch her breath.

She looked at him and grinned. "Wow. That was _intense_. Was it good for you?"

Alex laughed, almost surprising himself. It had been a long time since he'd truly laughed at something as simple as a joke.

Wolf had composed himself enough by now to enter to living room. He didn't know what to make of the scene. Both were laughing, and while he was happy to see Alex hadn't been in danger, he was more than a little confused. Who was this woman?

Elise looked up at them. "Hello boys. Have a good trip?"

"Who _are_ you?" Quinn demanded, echoing his teammates previous thoughts.

"I'm Elise. Alex, I'm going to go grab a shower, then you can have it," Elise answered, rolling herself and standing up. She made her way to the stairs as though she had lived there her entire life.

Alex waved her away, still panting. He knew he was being stared at, but for once didn't care. He'd had fun today, and it felt good to be up against someone who wasn't threatening his life.

"_That's_ your new therapist?" Wolf asked incredulously.

Alex grinned and he stood up, wavered, but got his muscles under control enough to right himself. "Yeah, isn't she great?" He reached for a towel that had been thrown on the couch and wiped himself off. "How was the trip?"

"Dull," Quinn answered shortly, sizing the boy up with his eyes. He knew Alex shouldn't be exerting himself so soon, but he had to admit, whatever had been happening had been beneficial. Alex looked alive for the first time in a long time. A lot more like the boy they had met at training, and a lot less like the one who had offered himself up in exchange for them.

"I didn't know you could move like that," Wolf pointed out. "I'm impressed."

"What, you think what I pulled on you in SAS training was all I had to offer?" Alex smirked. "I just didn't want to hurt you."

Wolf growled and turned to Quinn. "Remember when he couldn't talk? Those were the days, weren't they?"

Quinn chuckled. "How are you feeling?" he asked Alex.

Alex smiled. "Sore. Exhausted. Invigorated. Energized." He took a whiff of himself just as Elise was coming down the stairs. "Sweaty." He disappeared.

She smiled at the two men and motioned them to the kitchen. "I know you have questions, so ask away."

"You _do_ realize he's got broken ribs?" Quinn pointed out as he sat down.

Elise shrugged. "What you walked in on was basically the same thing I did on Saturday. All I did was offer him a control. He stopped when I called, didn't he?"

"So basically you're billing us to beat him up?" Wolf snarked.

"Firstly, I'm billing MI6, and second, do you see so much as a mark on him? He's far better than I could ever hope to be, even if we're the same belt level. It's everything I can do just to make it challenging for him, and I know he's taking it easy on me. He just moves so _fast_."

"And this is your version of therapy?"

"Actually, no. I stumbled onto this by accident. This was just two friends working out together. The therapy comes in our conversation afterward. Besides, don't knock it if it works," Elise shrugged.

"And the words on the CD?" Wolf asked.

Elise frowned. "That was how I found him. He recorded every word that he associates as a trigger, burnt it onto a CD, and plays it in a loop. He actually induced the flashbacks, and then forced himself to work through them. Pretty ingenious, actually."

"Is that healthy?" Quinn asked, concerned.

"Not really, but neither would it be to tell him to stop. Look, I've read all his files, and I know what you suspect happened on his last mission. Rape victims often look for some sort of factor in their lives they can control. And don't kid yourselves, the fact that that man touched him with sexual intention _is_ rape, no matter where it went from there. With Alex, it's made worse by the fact that he's by nature a private person and after everything MI6 has put him through," Elise explained, glancing at the stairs. " He's having a hard time controlling what his mind throws up, so he's taking back that control with his body."

Wolf sighed. "Okay, _now_ I believe you're a therapist."

Her eyes flashed in anger as Elise glared at him. "Do _not_ treat this as a joke, Mr. Martin," she hissed. "Whether any of you want to believe it or not, Alex _is_ a rape victim with a whole lot more shit on top of that. Being in denial of that is only going to make matters worse for him."

Quinn put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We're not denying anything, Elise. We're just dealing with it the best we can. We'll do everything we can, of course, to help Alex get through this."

Elise narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "You mean over it," she stated.

Catching the test, Quinn smiled and shook his head. "You don't ever get 'over it'. You can only get through it and try to move on. An experience like that doesn't ever leave you."

She sighed, seemingly satisfied. She heard Alex on the stairs and beamed a smile at him which both men could see was genuine.

"Alex, it seems our talk will have to wait. Can I come over again in a few days?"

Alex hesitated. "To talk, or to work out?"

"Both, most likely. I'll see you on Wednesday," Elise answered with a grin as she left. Alex couldn't help but smile after her.

"So, you like her, huh?" Wolf asked.

"Yeah. You have to admit, she does have a rather unique approach," he grinned.

Both men chuckled. Obviously, they would have to find a way to be out of the house on the days that Elise came by. They didn't want to hinder the progressive she seemed to be making in a relatively short time.

"Are you hungry?" Quinn moved to pick up the phone.

"Actually, yeah I am," Alex answered, sounding almost surprised. "Are Ben and Derek coming over tonight?"

"No, not tonight. We actually have to talk to you," Wolf explained.

Alex sighed. "It's about MI6, isn't it?"

Quinn nodded. "They want to know what your status is. I've been assured they're not intending on sending you on a mission."

Alex nodded. "It's all right. I've made my decision anyway. We should go now."

Wolf glanced at the phone in Quinn's hand, wondering if he should insist they eat first, but he was pretty sure Alex wasn't going to be dissuaded so easily. "Okay, let's get this done with."

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Thirty minutes later they were standing in Blunts office. Wolf and Snake had both been surprised when Alex had requested their presence. Mrs. Jones was standing off to the side, nervously sucking a peppermint.

Alex was currently giving his debriefing of his last mission and was nearing it's end. If his caretakers were a little pale, he pretended not to notice.

Blunt closed the file. "You seem to be doing better," he said.

Alex snorted. "We don't need pleasantries anymore, Mr. Blunt. I know it was you that set up the whole thing."

Blunt opened his mouth, but Alex shook his head. "I'm not interested in anything you have to say, but you _are_ going to hear me out."

Alex took a deep breath. He'd been doing a lot of thinking lately, and had finally come to a decision. "I've had some time to realize a few basic truths, about you, about my situation, and about myself. My father and my Uncle were both patriots, and that's why they chose to work with you. For them, the sacrifices they made were willingly given and I'm sure they felt the rightness of their cause. But here's the thing. I'm not them."

"Alex, you need more time to think," Mrs. Jones interrupted, afraid they were about to lose their best agent.

"I've done nothing _but_ think for some time now. Here's the realization I've made. I believe in what I've been doing, just not who I've been doing it for. I can't turn back the clock and pretend I don't know what's out there. I can't pretend like it doesn't matter to me, and that it's not a part of my life, a part of who I am. So, here's my offer. MI6 will be my primary quarters of operation, but I want every government sponsored intelligence agency around the world to know about me, and I am to be made available to any of them. That means if the CIA or ASIS need me for something, then they can put the request through here. I will, of course, have all final say on whether or not I accept the mission, and each agency will be billed appropriately for my time. Should it be discovered that someone is filtering the mission requests, well, I think the CIA would be more than happy to employ me and give me American citizenship."

If he died on the spot, Alex would have done so happily as Alan Blunts face flushed with anger. Mrs. Jones was likewise completely stunned, and for once, speechless.

"Just _who_ do you think you are?" Blunt blustered.

Alex smiled coldly and looked him straight in the eye. "Someone who usually gets what he wants."

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	9. Worth It

CHAPTER 9- Worth it.

AN: And here we are, the last chapter. I can't believe you're still reading, lol. For those I've lost along the way, I am truly sorry. The moment I considered a sequel, this was always the direction I was heading. I didn't set out to write something that could compare to Deaths Door. I set out to write something completely different, with just a hint of familiar, so that there could be no comparison. Happy reading, and until next story time. Cheers.

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Alex fidgeted nervously as he waited in his room. This was it, the last step he had to take. He looked into the mirror again to check out what he was wearing. Nothing fancy, just a jumper and jeans, but he couldn't help it.

Catching sight of his face, he smiled. He'd come a long way in the past few months. The lessons had been hard learned, but he wasn't likely to forget them any time soon. There was still a cold hardness to his eyes that he didn't think he'd ever be rid of. He had saved the world a few times, after all, and suffered horribly for it.

But there was life in them, once again. After so long of simply wishing his life would end, Alex felt alive again, and almost human. A month of regular therapy and workouts with Elise had done both his mind and body some good. The flashbacks had been reduce to almost non-existent, and his nightmares, while still quite terrifying, came only after a particularly difficult session with Elise.

He had taken back control of his life. MI6 had conceded to his request, unhappily, but had done so nonetheless. He wasn't ready to go back to work yet, but it was coming soon. It would take time for word to get out, since it had to be carefully filtered through certain channels.

He was coming along just fine in school. He'd even started to try and regain some of his previous friendships. Tom Harris was a little more skittish around him than he used to be, but they were both working on it. He still had to be careful about hiding his body, but that didn't bother him so much anymore. He'd come to realize that those scars were badges of honor. Talisman's that meant he had, yet again, managed to survive the almost impossible.

He'd risen a rank in his Karate, and K Unit had started teaching him Close Quarters Weapons Maneuvers. They hadn't particularly been thrilled with his decision, but they hadn't hampered it, either. They had simply done the best they could to make sure he was as prepared as he could be for whatever he might face next.

He'd let them in, and in exchange, had become part of a unit. If sometimes Fox or Eagle couldn't remember whether they were Uncles or Teammates, he didn't mind. Wolf was doing his best as a father figure, which in itself was sometimes worth a few laughs, and Snake had become the wise Uncle he went to for advice.

It had taken a lot, that first time. He'd had a nightmare about Dexter, and Elise had warned him about not talking about it. Not talking about made it secret, forbidden, and wrong. He'd never thought of it like that before, but he knew instantly she was right.

Quinn had caught him making coffee in the kitchen at four am. He had waited until the coffee was brewed before asking about it. Alex had screamed quite loudly. There had been something in his voice, like he was expecting Alex to reject him again. Alex had been shocked to discover how much that had hurt.

So he'd started talking. And found he couldn't stop. He had even cried a little. Quinn had been surprised, pleased, and sympathetic, but never overbearing. He'd allowed Alex to talk as he would, or wouldn't, at his leisure. They had talked for an hour.

That had been the first time, but definitely not the last. He'd even accepted Wolf into his private boundaries, though he still preferred to talk to Quinn. Humor had returned to the house, and he felt secure in the relationship he have developed with each man. It wasn't perfect. He still had a long way to go, no matter how far he'd come, but they were working on it, and it was good. If he wasn't quite open to being loved, he was at least open to being cared about.

Jack had even written him, at last. He had been thrilled to hear from her, and that she was doing well. She had even written the letter in German, to make sure he was keeping up with his languages. Feeling a little impish, he had written a letter back to her in Spanish, not one of her best languages.

Life was settling down into a tolerable pace for him. He didn't feel like it was all spinning out of control anymore, he didn't feel helpless.

Wolf knocked on the door to his room. "Are you going to come down and actually meet her, or just stay up here?"

Alex smiled nervously. "Can I take door number two?"

Wolf chuckled. "I don't know why you're so nervous. It's only my mother." But he did understand. He knew this was a big step for Alex. Meeting Clara, his mother, was the last step Alex had to take in being fully accepting of being part of a family. "She brought brownies."

"What if-" Alex cut himself off. The question would have made him vulnerable, and that still wasn't a place he was comfortable coming from. "I'm coming."

Wolf nodded and went back downstairs. He knew what Alex had been about to ask. A year of insecurities and fears weren't going to go away with only a month of therapy and a taste at a normal life, however temporary that taste might be.

Alex had made his decision to stay in business, and there was nothing any of them could do about it. Nor would they have tried, he thought. Had his parents gone through any less anxiety when he had decided to join SAS?

Probably not. They had accepted what, and who, Alex was when they'd adopted him. If anything, K Unit as a whole was proud of him for taking back his life from MI6, for standing up and making his voice heard.

That they hadn't particularly liked what he had to say was their issue, not his.

"Is he coming?" Quinn asked quietly.

"He says he is. He's nervous. You didn't tell him about the time she beaned you with the frying pan for swearing, did you?" Wolf asked, suspicious.

Snake laughed. "Nope. Just about the time she kicked Fox out of the house for daring to smoke a pipe, except it was raining so hard he couldn't keep it lit."

"Ha! And he deserved it too!" Clara replied haughtily. She pointed at Snake. "So did you, for that matter. Just because you're soldiers doesn't mean you have to talk like one!"

"But you love me best, right Clara?" Eagle asked around a mouthful of brownies.

Wolf snorted. "As only a mother could, I'm sure."

Eagle stuck out his tongue as Clara patted his head indulgently. "You're just jealous, Dan."

"Why? You had to adopt my mother because yours didn't bloody want you," Wolf fired back.

Eagle grinned. "Yours makes better brownies, too."

"That'll be enough of that! Potty mouths, the lot of you! That poor boy doesn't stand a chance of having a decent raising!" Clara clucked over the laughter.

"Actually, I think I'm teaching them a thing or two, so it's a toss up as to who's raising whom," Alex put in quietly. He was standing at the doorway of his kitchen, and had been watching for a while.

Clara smiled. "Let me look at you. Daniel didn't tell me you were so handsome!" She came right into his personal space without so much as a second thought. Nor did she comment when he immediately backed up a little. She studied him carefully. "Those eyes have seen the world go round a time or two, I think."

K Unit was quiet now. Alex smiled. "Or two. But it's still turning, and in the end, that's all that really matters, right?"

Clara smiled sadly. "It's a heavy burden to bear, holding it up."

"But worth doing," Alex replied. Of that much, at long last, he was sure.

Clara chuckled. "Yes, I suppose it is. Welcome to the family, Alex."

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The End.


End file.
